


Pokémon Trading: The Forgotten Crimes

by MicahDebrink



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Arora-chichou | Alola, F/M, Human/Pokemon Relationship(s), International Police, Pokephilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicahDebrink/pseuds/MicahDebrink
Summary: Every day, pokémon are exploited against their will. But the most contemptible act of all is rarely told: the sexual exploitation of pokémon by humans. Here is the story of the last days of an infamous illegal brothel in the Alolan city of Hau’oli, before it was raided by International Police.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multiple POV work; a horizontal line break indicates a change in POV.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the illicit activity in this story. Pokémon and its trademarked characters do not belong to me.

* * *

 

INTERNATIONAL POLICE INVESTIGATION CASE FILE #3301 [DECLASSIFIED]

**Sandra Macintosh** —DEFENDANT #6. A middle-aged woman, accused and convicted in October of sexual abuse of a pokémon. Known as "the lady" to the sylveon.

**Sylveon** —VICTIM #4. Unnamed sylveon. The primary victim of Sandra Macintosh. Interview conducted with the aid of on-staff pokémon translator. Italicized items are interview questions.

**Christine** —International Police agent. Led the investigation into the pokémon brothel.

* * *

**Sandra**

The first thing that captivated me when I arrived at Alola was a pokémon. It was a raticate, on the side of the street. Its darker and fur and pudgy cheeks, different from what I had seen back home in Johto, was what first caught my attention. It was clinging to the outside of a fallen young coconut, and gnawing at the outside, trying to break through.

When I returned to that street corner the next morning, the raticate was still there, having barely made an inch of progress on the thick coconut shell. I chanced by a local passerby why the raticate could spend so much time, gnawing away at the coconut. Why it didn’t just give up.

The local, an elderly lady, insisted on knowing my name first. She said it was part of the Alolan “spirit of friendship”.

“My name is Sandra. I’m from Johto,” I told her.

“Nice to meet you, Sandra. I’m Tania. I’ve lived here in Hau’oli for…oh, about 40 years now?”

I pointed to the raticate. “How long has it been there…gnawing at the coconut?”

“Oh…he’s been there…probably longer than I’ve lived here,” she joked.

“And it just keep gnawing at the coconut…all day? Every day?”

“We Alolans are resilient people, Sandra,” the lady, Tania, told me. “Even when the journey seems to take forever, we know that there is an end in sight.”

So perhaps I moved to Hau’oli City with my husband and son, hoping some of that resilience would transfuse into me. But alas. I was stuck with some desk job at a yacht sales office in the city. The pay was decent, and I was always close to the beach, but the smell of diesel becomes infuriating.

Where was the peace? The unyielding nature? The idyllic tropics? Passing by the street corner every day on my way to work, I never saw the raticate again. Instead, I was often jostled by mobs of tourists rushing with their cameras to the next shop, the next attraction, the next restaurant.

It made my blood pressure race so much that I stopped drinking coffee in the morning. I began to share the sentiments that many of the long-time locals felt. Professor Kukui expressed this on Alola Public Radio most aptly, in my opinion:

“Tourists are our greatest blessing and our greatest curse. They bring the whole world and all its cosmopolitan color to our doorstep. And that is precisely why they are a danger.”

My son Amis, who was 8 at the time, always dreamt of being a pokémon trainer. He had a young cyndaquil that he brought over when we moved. When we first moved to Alola, Amis liked to take trips into the tropical forests and fighting the pokémon there.

The biting flies and scorching heat never smothered his ebullient laughter and cries of excitement. Sometimes from home I thought I could hear his high-pitched laughter, echoing in the forested mountains surrounding the city. But then it turns out be a jet ski or motor yacht in the water or something like that.

One day, Amis returned from his forest hike all scratched and bruised. The burn marks on his legs showed that he had his cyndaquil cauterize the wounds for him while he made the journey down.

“A raticate attacked me in the forest,” he told me. “He was angry because I stepped on his tail. He grabbed my leg and wouldn’t let go.”

“Did you try to pull him off of you?” I asked. He winced as I poured antiseptic on his cuts.

“Yeah, but…ow…he wouldn’t budge. He…owww…just kept gnawing and scratching for like…oww…it was like two whole hours.”

“It couldn’t have been that long.”

“It felt like two hours.”

Amis did not go back to the forest after that. In fact, he did not like to go out at all. He would often sit silently without any expression, facing the window, watching the waves crash into the beach, watching the crowds of tourists scrambling around the strip of sand. Then he started getting interested in motor yachts. He kept asking me if I could take him to my work at the yacht sales office. He never mentioned anything about pokémon anymore.

And it was then that I began to see myself in the mirror. Was it really that long ago that I was a little girl? The image in the mirror forced me to ask that question, because it only seemed like yesterday that I was crying, laughing, playing, dreaming. At the moment of that very thought I heard my son scream.

I ran towards his voice. “Yes, honey, what’s wrong?”

As Alola is a tropical place, our houses are very vulnerable to all sorts of pests. I think even the pokémon enjoy the air conditioning.

I saw my son with a baseball bat in his hand, and the dead pokémon on the ground, bleeding. He was smiling, the first time I had seen him smile since the incident at the forest.

“I did it, Mommy. I did it. I did it,” he said, smiling. “I killed him.”

I asked Amis to put down the baseball bat. I kneeled down to look more closely at the pest Amis had killed. It was an Alolan raticate, with the characteristic dark fur and pudgy cheeks. Looking closer, I received a tremendous shock.

On the raticate’s teeth were little fragments of coconut fibers.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_What can you tell me about Sandra?_

Sandra? You mean the lady?

_[presents photo] Is this her?_

[nods head] Yes. That’s the lady.

_Tell me about the lady. She was the one who touched you, is that right?_

Well, yes, but she was my client. When the lady first saw me, she said that I was very cute. As a sylveon, I get that a lot. So I smiled at her. But then the lady said I reminded her of her son. The son that she lost. But this I don’t understand, because now I heard that she has a son who is alive…am I right?

_Yes, that’s correct._

Yeah. Anyway at the time, I was flattered by Sandra’s comment. Usually when I get a human customer, I have to show them my junk before they’ll believe I’m a male. Few humans automatically recognize me as a male. So I liked that about the lady.

_You thought highly of her?_

Yes, she was nice. She let me be top since I was the male—I liked that. Most of the female clients I had had some weird “power complex” in their heads. I only lasted ten minutes the first time, and she really didn’t mind. In fact, she said she liked it. The lady gave me some pieces of colored paper, saying “thank for rekindling my joy”.

_It was money._

Money. Yes. That was the problem with staying at that place.

_That place, you mean the brothel?_

Yeah. Money was the problem. Money caused all the trouble.

_How so?_

Well, every time bad people came to see us, they would always ask for money. Money. Money. They would shout really loud, and point guns at people. Money is so important to you humans. That doesn’t make sense to me. When the lady gave me those pieces of money, I just chewed it all up. I thought it was food or something. I mean, what other useful purpose could it possibly have? It’s just pieces of colored paper.

_Did you try to use it to get food?_

Oh, I was hungry. I was always hungry. The lady should have given me food if she really cared about me. They don’t give us much food so we stay skinny and desperate. It’s good for business, I guess.

_They, you mean the owners of the brothel?_

Yes, those humans. When I figured out what money was supposed to be for, I tried handing some money to Master. I thought I could get some sweets or something.

_Master is the owner of the brothel?_

I guess.

_You like sweets?_

Yeah, I guess I do [giggles]. Can I have some more of the cherry sweets? They’re my favorite.

_Of course you can [hands sweets to the sylveon]. Now what did Master do when you gave him the money?_

He yelled at me. He didn’t hit me because that would leave cuts and that would be bad for business. He said that I was stupid to handle money, that I would get into big trouble next time I got caught. But humans use money right? Doesn’t that mean humans are more stupid than pokémon?

_Perhaps so._

* * *

**Christine**

Sometimes it seems like the pokémon victims are forgotten. That is, we are forgotten by the right people and remembered by the wrong. The right people do not stay very long. They do not stay to read past the first few lines. They hear a saccharine story of the romantic tropics, and never see any more.

 It is a pity. I have learned that it always takes a long time to get to know someone.

My name is Christine (this is my code name; I cannot reveal my real name for personal safety). Hailing from Goldenrod City in Johto, I am an International Police Agent stationed in Hau’oli City.

I have led the investigation (and eventual seizure) of the Hau’oli brothel. Our agents occasionally made visits to the building, to make sure that the pokémon working at the building are not suffering unduly.

And yet you might be taken aback by my statement, for what these pokémon are being forced to do is, by definition, suffering? But I sincerely wish we could do more for these pokémon.

Why did we take so long to raid this illegal business? The brothel has not only connects with Team Skull, the local criminal organization of Alola, but also the infamous Team Rocket, which we discovered through intelligence was funneling in money to sustain the business.

We arrested criminal bosses connected with the brothel, as well as frequent customers. An example of the latter is a woman by the name of Sandra Macintosh. An immigrant from Johto, she was married (now divorced) and with a son. She worked at a yacht sales company here in Alola. She, along with 8 other frequent customers, were convicted of pokémon sexual abuse. They are currently imprisoned.

Attached to this document I have provided some appropriate excerpts of Ms. Macintosh’s memoirs, which she has been writing in prison, still believing in her innocence. She argues that no human ever could ignite the passion within her than a pokémon could. And as shocking as it may seem, some people are inclined to agree with her.

As part of our inquiries, we also conducted interviews with the pokémon who were exploited at the brothel with the aid of our on-staff pokémon translator. I have attached some appropriate excerpts of an interview with a sylveon, who suffered the closest contact with the defendant, Ms. Macintosh.

Why do humans turn to pokémon brothels? What do they value from their companionship? Professor Kukui, and his cousin Professor Oak, have both sponsored further academic research into this topic.

Some humans visit the brothels merely out of some perverted pleasure they find in raping nonconsenting pokémon—perhaps to assert power over someone. A pokémon is an easy first attempt. But it is not all so black and white. A traumatic loss of a pokémon or a human child often leaves a gap in some people’s lives—a pokémon sexual partner fills the void. Their intentions are perhaps good, but the result is grossly cruel and inhumane.

Despite it being illegal, Alolans have always tolerated the brothel’s presence. As much as we dislike admitting it, our culture has always had a very liberal attitude when it comes to sexual relationships, and this extends to sex between humans and pokémon. Many of us locals are reluctant to separate from that culture.

Tourists from the likes of Kanto, Johto, and Sinnoh do not necessarily approve of this, but they treat it as a novelty and do not publicly speak ill of it, because it’s to them, an integral part of Alola that must be “respected”.

But I beg you to ask this. Is abuse and neglect of pokémon part of our culture? Is the exploitation of pokémon’s bodies for ill-used profit part of our culture?

What respect does this deserve?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Sandra**

I visited the Hau’oli PokéPalace one evening, after my husband and Amis had gone to sleep. They go to bed early. It seems with the hot, humid weather that life carries along at an anemic pace, lethargy heavy in the air. After living here for so long, Alola was beginning to disgust me.

But that opinion changed when I arrived at the PokéPalace after 10 minutes of walking in the humid darkness. There was something…light about it. It wasn’t that it was air-conditioned—all the buildings were air-conditioned.

It couldn’t have been the décor either. The walls, both inside and outside, were exposed concrete with cracks and stains all along the surface. The window frames were chipped, the glass shattered and taped and painted black to conceal the inside.

The lobby inside wasn’t much better. A single dim lamp lit the room, a faded woven rug concealing the dirty concrete floor. Even though I was on the ground floor, there was a certain dampness about the room that made it feel like was in the basement. I had fallen into the underworld. I shuddered a little. But that’s all.

Inside the lobby, there was a man sitting at a desk—the manager of the place. He was looking at his computer, pretending to do something official. Even an idiot would notice that he was pleasuring himself to whatever was on his screen.

“Excuse me?” I said. He ignored me.

I found a bell on the front desk. I tried ringing it, but was bunged up with rust, and didn’t make much of a sound: just _krrrrk_. With each passing hour, the air-conditioned room felt colder.

“Can I help ya, miss?” The man finally said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

I insisted that I know his name—as was the Alolan custom—and then introduced myself as Sandra.

He finally looked at me. “None of yer damn business, Sandy.”

“It’s Sandra.”

“Whatever. Now what the hell do you want?”

I was almost tempted to leave right there and then. I shudder to think how empty my life would me if had made that fatal decision. By some miracle, I was compelled to stay. Now I think back, there was something at the dimly lit lobby, within the walls, within the dim light. It was glowing. Something was glowing.

I closed my eyes to see if I was hallucinating. Heat was flowing into my heart. I looked at the man at the desk. He was 40ish, fat, and with a comb over. _Am I really getting that desperate? C’mon Sandra!_ But I definitely wasn’t attracted to the man. Not him.

“I want…company,” I finally said. “A pokémon.”

“Oh. I see.” He sighed, and started to take me more seriously. “Who d’you want?” He shoved a laminated list in front of my face, with pictures.

The warmth inside me became infuriating as it remained unsatiated. “No, no,” I shoved the laminated paper back into the man’s face, and looked towards the hallway that led to the rooms.

“Hey, miss, you can’t go in there! Hey! Come back here! I’m running a business, ya little bitch!”

I raced down the hall and towards the unlit stairwell, the moonlight filtering through a window. I could hear the footsteps of the man behind me, stepping on the hard concrete floor. I panicked. I dashed up those stairs, as fast as I could. I just remembered thinking that man was evil. That man was evil.

Man was evil.

Kindness emanated from the only door at the top of the stairs, at the third floor. I opened the door. The energy I craved flowed through the knob into my hand. It was something that I would always remember in the times to come.

Inside the room was the sylveon. In the red-light darkness of the room, it was glowing, its luscious bright pink body sitting casually on the mattress. It had this big smile across his face as it bounded past the bed, on the floor, around the room. My eyes followed, but I did not move. I could not move anymore. I had completed my journey, and reached my destination. He was the one.

When it finally stood still and lay on the bed tummy up—still smiling—I realized the sylveon was a male. Despite his pink fur and colorful ribbons, he was very much a male— _enormously_ so. In fact so much so that he didn’t bother to be ashamed of his effeminate appearance. He was light, carefree, innocent. It was my boy! My baby boy had returned to me after it departed from my son’s body so long ago.

The man finally caught up with me. “Miss, you better get out of my property or else—“

“I want the sylveon.” I pointed at the pokémon. “It looks cute.”

“Ya sure? Not many of our customers want that pouf.”

My stomach cringed when I heard the insult. It made me want to punch the man. The wedding ring on my finger was enough to starch his eye out—oh. That’s when I realized. I quickly took off my wedding ring and threw it on the mattress.

The sylveon curiously examined the ring. The shiny blue jewel on it seemed to fascinate him. It matched his sparkling eyes. The way the light dazzled about the facets, he seemed to think it was a living thing; he even tried to pounce at it. He scooped it up cautiously with one of his ribbons and tried biting at it with the fangs in his mouth. Of course, the gem was too hard and the sylveon couldn’t make any scratches in it.

Surprisingly, I didn’t even flinch. It almost made me want to laugh, actually, seeing the sylveon turn my wedding ring into nothing more than a chewable commodity.

“See what the sylveon does?” The manager pointed out to me. “It likes to mess with people’s stuff. Acts too silly. That’s why our customers don’t like it.”

“I’ll…I’ll try him out…nonetheless,” I said, appeasing the man.

“Okay. Suit yerself. That’ll be P30000 for two hours.”

“Done.” I rummaged into my purse.

“Mmmm…!” The sylveon suddenly cried, eyeing my purse. There were a couple of fruit candies inside that fell out. He unabashedly bit straight into the hard center, without even removing the wrapper. He looked up and smiled at me, his mouth lined with bits of crusted colored sugar.

The man was surprised when I actually handed him the cash. Seeming to have finally given in to the customer, the man put his hands up and shut the door behind us. We were alone now.

I looked into the sylveon’s big, soulful aquamarine eyes. “You’re beautiful,” I managed to say, tears lining my eyes. “You remind me of the son I used to have.” That was why there were the tears.

His smile turned wider. He let out a little high-pitched squeal: “Mmm!” It echoed in the cold concrete walls of the room.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

“Mmm!” He smiled.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_What do you do when you have sex?_

I put this [points to genitalia] inside my client. I fuck them. That’s what Master calls it. It’s supposed to feel nice. It does feel nice. That’s why I’m supposed to do it.

_Why do you have sex?_

Because Master tells me to.

_[presents photo]Is this man Master?_

[nods head] Yes, that’s him. He’s really chubby, doesn’t have much hair on his head.

_Do you understand what sex is supposed to be for?_

Yeah. It’s like a product you’re selling. Like candy or food. If your customer likes it, they come back to buy more. The lady liked my product, so she kept coming back to see me.

_Do you understand that sex is for making children?_

No. You’re wrong. I came from inside the little dark room. Then the light comes on, and the people come and test us, to make sure we’re okay before we’re allowed to step on earth. That’s how everyone is born. That’s how the lady’s son must have arrived to her.

_How do you tell someone that you don’t want to have sex with them?_

Ha, that’s funny! [giggles] I don’t tell them no, that’s stupid. It’s like refusing to serve a customer. It’s discrimination. That makes me bad if I say no. It makes me bad, like a human.

_What does the Master feed you?_

He doesn’t give me candy [sulks]. Can I have some more please?

_Sure. [hands some cherry candies] Does it not hurt your teeth, chewing them like that?_

No. Master would give me all these tablets. They’re to make me strong. He says you’re supposed to swallow them whole. But I chew through them—when Master’s not looking. [giggles] They taste nasty. Candy tastes much better.

_What else do they give you besides the tablets?_

The soup. It’s a light brown color. It’s really sticky and disgusting, but I’m so hungry that I eat it anyway. Sometimes I’ll pee on the soup. My pee makes it taste better. But I wish I could have candy.

_What’s your first memory?_

Darkness. It’s really dark. And then there was a really bright light, I guess that must be when I was born. I was born at the building where you found me. A lot of humans were looking at me. Touching me. Taking pictures of me. They were judging whether I was worthy of being born. Master was there. I remember Master shouting at me. I was being naughty.

_Why were you being naughty?_

I was still a baby sylveon. I stole the ring on his finger. The one that a lot of humans wear. I started chewing at it. Master got mad. Really mad. He didn’t beat me—that’s bad for business.

_Who beats you?_

[turns serious] Customers…sometimes they say they enjoy beating me. It gives them pleasure. I get bruises from those customers. But the lady isn’t like that, I swear! The lady never ever beat me.

* * *

**Christine**

You can’t take the things that the pokémon say at face value. The casualness that the pokémon victims of the PokéPalace speak of their suffering is almost frightening, and makes you question the horrors they must have experienced relative to that.

Investigating Team Rocket and Team Skull’s records, we know that the sylveon working at the PokéPalace was taken from the wild as an eevee—probably as an infant, as he did not seem to remember any details of his capture in the interview.

Pokémon are not only a novelty in the sex industry, but ideal in that any sort of contraception is not allowed (pokémon viruses do not transmit easily to humans, and it is impossible to get pregnant form a pokémon). Males also tend to me much larger and fuller than their human counterparts. Sylveon are especially rare and desirable pokémon for sexual partners due to their innocent, childlike appearance and demeanor.

The sylveon, as many eevee are, was likely given a certain “shortcut” chemical that would induce a desired eeveelution: chemicals which are banned and often cause horrible side effects for the pokémon. These include muscle aches, inability to use attacks, and lack of mental concentration for a few weeks as the pokémon is forced to adapt to its new foreign, unfamiliar body.

After inoculation, the pokémon are placed in pokeballs and transported through a clandestine network of portable pokémon transporters, practically immune to any of our wiretapping efforts against it.

The purchasers directly receive their orders using a portable transporter device. The trade of pokémon at brothels is seasonal. Many pokémon do not survive more than 5 years, and either die due to disease and abuse, or are simply euthanized for a decline in virility or attractiveness. (The sylveon at the PokéPalace, for comparison, was only at the brothel for 2 years before we seized the place.)

The brothel owner sells their dead pokémon for furs and organ trade (an entirely different subject of discussion which is not my specialty), and purchases a shipment of fresh pokémon at their sexual peak.

The new arrivals are placed in a dark, windowless concrete holding cell. (At the PokéPalace, we found such a room at the basement.) One by one, they go into the cell, where they are inspected for cuts/bruises, their genitalia are measured, and their sexual performance is timed. Appropriate photos are taken. For example, here is the inspection report of the sylveon upon arrival, which we seized from the PokéPalace:

_Sylveon. Arrived May 14. Male. 51lbs. In good health, jolly nature._

_Physical defects: Small irregularity in muscle of right leg (see figure 1). No other existing cosmetic injuries or defects. 9/10._

_Physical traits: Average size. 35.2 inches tall, 41.1 inches from head to tail. Blue eyes. Light pink/cream fur. Ribbons with blue tips (sensitive when pulled). 9/10._

_Reaction to pain: sensitive. Loud screech when needle inserted, entered psychological shock with patch test of hydrochloric acid. Was compelled to cry with pinching of sensitive areas. Not to be considered against it, for is good indication of sexual performance. 7/10._

_Voice: high-pitched, light. Was compelled to sing—good singing voice. 10/10_

_Sexual aptitude: 8 inches. Light pinkish color. Average time: 12 minutes, 31 seconds. Rest period of about 50 minutes to one hour. Below average. 8/10._

_Overall aptitude: 9/10. Excellent candidate for human use, despite lower than average sexual performance._

After the assessment, conditions do not improve very much. The pokémon in the brothels are not paid—not that this is a bad thing on its own, as pokémon have little use for money. The pokémon are instead allotted food by their human owners.  

Typical food served to the pokémon at the PokéPalace, for example, is a bland paste of flour and water and a multivitamin—only because malnutrition harms their trade. The food is often so blandly flavored that the pokémon pee on it—even the saltiness of the urine makes it more palatable. But nonetheless, the pokémon are not in a position to complain.

Although the profits are often more than adequate to feed each of their pokémon well, it goes without saying the brothel owners did not use much of their wealth towards the well-being of the pokémon. This makes a pokémon brothel an extremely lucrative profession—even if illegal.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_What kind of things does the lady make you do?_

She used her hands on me at first. I think she was a little scared [giggles]. She was surprised at first when stuff came out of me. Humans do that too, right? Maybe she just thought it was weird, seeing the stuff come out from a pokémon.

But eventually we started having sex. She’d visit me…maybe two or three times a week. Late at night. I don’t last very long, about ten or fifteen minutes, but the lady was kind to me. One time a female customer beat me because I didn’t make her climax.

I usually manage about two times every session, but I have to rest for an hour in between. The lady…Sandra…was very understanding. I would sit, she would give me sweets and pet my fur, and say that she just liked…being with me.

_Do you use your attacks?_

On all my clients. Disarming voice helps calm down the tense customers. The lady liked me to do that. She told me I have a beautiful singing voice. Do you think so? [sings a few lines]

_Yes, that was beautiful._

[smiles] Aww, thanks. Sometimes if the customer gets too feisty, I use draining kiss on them, it has a kind of sedative effect. Helps me control them so they don’t do things that hurt me.

_Has the lady ever done something that you didn’t want to do?_

Well, yeah. One thing. She always liked to play with my ribbons. They’re very warm and sensitive, so a lot of clients like me to touch their body with it. But the lady would get greedy in the heat of the moment, and she would tug at them so I would touch her even more. It hurts. A lot.

I tried telling her “Stop! That hurts!” But I don’t think she understood what I said, she would just chuckle every time I made a noise. No one understands me. But the lady was nice. She was the human that understood me the best.

* * *

**Christine**

My commitment to my profession has evolved since I took on this case. Sometimes, when the hours seem long and forbidding, the stories of the pokémon victims suffering keep me going. At least 300 pokémon during the brothel’s operation died, including:

_Primarina. Male. 87lbs. Clinically psychotic. Often trembles/cries when recalling painful memories. Must be sedated to avoid self-harm injuries. Died November 2 of heart failure, aggravated by excessive use of sedative._

_Zoroark. Female. 155lbs. Severe pelvic bruising. Incontinent. Dislocation in multiple joints. Died October 3 of internal bleeding._

_Serperior. Male. 115lbs. Untreated wounds and lacerations from abuse. Died September 1 of antibiotic-resistant infection._

And perhaps most importantly to the reader:

_Sylveon. Male. 39lbs. Severely malnourished. Anemic. Died October 15 from anemia._

The voices of pokémon are never heard. So hear them now. Hear them loud and clear. And I will listen with you. They speak of pain. Of torture. Of abuse and neglect. And so many words I can summon, all overshadowing that little four letter word. Love is gone. Love is gone when we tempt it so.

When we began our investigation, our most important question was whether a pokémon is capable of consenting to a sexual relationship. Standards had not been established at the time, so we had to create our own—the blind building the castle that was law, so it seemed.

Some of my fellow agents believed that consent was based on pokémon species. For example, some pokémon can at least understand basic human speech, and could conceivably understand the meaning between the sound “yes” and “no”. But when has love ever rested on the worthless words of “yes” and “no”, I argued with my colleagues?

In the case of Sandra and sylveon, we deemed the relationship to be nonconsensual, constituting sexual abuse of a pokémon in the first degree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it, and I appreciate your comments/feedback/support!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Sandra**

“Look, I brought you your favorite sweets!” I showed the sylveon. Cherry candies still remind me of him.

“Mmm…!” He smiled gleefully. I put one in his mouth for him to bite at, and I let him climb on me. Little dots and trails of warmth went through my body his paws touched me, his ribbons caressing my delicate flesh. I took a deep breath.

And so did he. But of course his breath was sweet, smelling of sweet flowers and a fresh mountain jungle. All the more it reminded me of my baby boy. Deep in his eyes, I saw my face: the reflection of my body.

I almost felt guilt for tainting the crystal glow in his eyes with my reflection. But his reassuring smile dissolved all my worries, my fears. What remained was fearlessness, the courage that had long reigned inside the sylveon’s eyes.

He didn’t hesitate in removing my clothes. After all, pokémon like him saw no use in such…worthless pieces of fabric. What did I have to hide, anyway? From the sylveon, at least? He was so intelligent; even knew how to work the bra catch at the back. All the time, his eyes remained that solid blue, his smile unfazed. 

The phone suddenly rang.

“Ah, fuck, who the hell is this?” I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Front desk. Your two hours are almost up, Sandy,” the manager said.

“What’re you talking about, I just got here!” Even though I was only on the phone, I still had the prudishness to cover by bare breasts during the conversation.

“If you wanna stay longer, I’m gonna have to charge you another P30000.”

“No way,” I said. “Screw you. Unless you wanna lose a good customer, I suggest you don’t nickel and dime me.”

He hesitated to speak. “Erm…look, I’ll level with ya. We’re a little short on cash. I got some debts to settle. Unless you want this place to go away, I suggest you pay up.”

I turned to the sylveon, who retained his innocent smile even in the face of my worried look. “Erm…okay then. I’ll pay. Later. Just put it on my bill. Bye.”

“Mmm…?” the sylveon squealed. I had never seen him not smile, until that time. He saw I was worried, and for once the smile of innocence disappeared and he was worried too.

I never forgave myself for that. I guess you could say that my relationship with the sylveon would never the same after that. He swept one of his bright pink ribbons across my arm. It radiated with pulsating warmth, but it lacked the intensity I once felt.

And it was only going to get colder.

I shed one tear, but that’s it. “Don’t worry, it’s…it’s nothing,” I convinced myself, thinking out loud. The sylveon’s smile returned. “Everything’s fine.”

I lied on my back, in preparation. “Come on…”—I spread my legs apart—“…let’s go.”

Very soon, we were but two living souls…the trainer and the trainee. And I have to say, it was a lovely lesson to learn. That was what was so special about him.

“Mmm…?” The sylveon noticed the cuts and bruises on my arms.

“Oh. It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”

I had had a rough day. My husband shouted at me. He knew that I was secretly leaving home every night around 10pm. He accused me of cheating on him. He called me a bitch. He called me a whore. He took his belt at first and lashed it at me. Then it was full on fists.

“Dammit, Sandra, should’ve known you were a cheater,” he sneered. “Fucking Alolan culture’s gotten into you, hasn’t it? What’s next, screwing a pokémon!?”

I flinched slightly. Then my husband hit me again.

Amis was woken by the noise. He came out of his bedroom and watching his Daddy hit his Mommy. I caught a glimmer of his deceptively innocent-looking face in my eye. He didn’t even flinch when his Daddy punched Mommy. He hugged his plush Pikachu tighter—maybe. His fingernails dug into the fabric, until you could see the stuffing. My husband hit me again. Amis tried not to laugh.

My husband had gone all out with his yelling and beating. There were two monsters in the room: him and his son. And oh, how they loved to hurt me. The only thing they would love more, though, is if I hit them.

I slapped my husband once. He screamed like a girl. He fell to the ground. His pain tolerance was absolute shit. All men and boys are just weaker girls with muscles, the way I think about it. Too much power for their own good. The sylveon, behind all its resplendent bows and pink fur, was unashamedly a male, in its truest form. Power. Raw power. Raw, salty, semen-soaked raw power. All tied up with a bow in a lovely little package.

I told Amis to go to bed.  And seeing my husband crouched on the floor in pain, like a little boy, I also commanded him to go to bed.

Amis had become more and more withdrawn. In the times he did talk, he was interested in guns and battleships and the like. Pokémon were for pussies, he would say. I scolded him with a broken heart, saying that it was wrong for an eight year old like him to say such words.

I had a glimmer of hypocrisy in my mind though: perhaps it was wrong for me to have sex with a pokémon. But I did not let it worry me. I did not let my family worry me.

Of all the things the sylveon stripped from me: clothing, bras, lingerie—the most important was my fear. My fear was gone. I was courageous. I refused to succumb. All thanks to the sylveon.

And with that, my family was gone.

So I wondered, how long would it be before the sylveon was gone?

* * *

**Christine**

There is something called the forbidden fruit argument, which many prominent Alolan figures, including people such as Professor Kukui, have endorsed. He told me “Gems are only mined because they are buried deep,” which I think most aptly summarizes his argument.

I had lunch with him about six days before we conducted the raid, hoping to eke out a prominent witness from him. Here is an abridged excerpt of our conversation.

 “Heh,” he scoffed, casually taking a sip of his iced coffee. “That’s what you International Police folks in Goldenrod don’t understand. Humans have always had responsible relationships with pokémon. It’s called the trainer.”

 “But sex isn’t the kind of training most normal humans have in mind,” I retaliated.

We were seated indoors in a relatively luxurious restaurant, but he was decidedly informal. He didn’t bother to button up the top three buttons of his shirt, and he wore a pair of board shorts that doubled as swimwear.

I couldn’t help but feeling like a prude at times during that meeting, wearing my traditional women’s suit with a long blazer and long pants. Which perhaps only furthered the Professor’s argument against my case.

“But in that you’re wrong,” he said. “Humans have always been curious about having sex with their pokémon. It’s just that the mainland has always denied it. Denial of problems never solves any problems, Ms. Christine. And we Alolans understand that.”

I leaned in closer. “Have you, Professor, ever had a sexual relationship with a pokémon?”

The Professor let out a peal of laughter, leaning back into his chair. “Goddamn it, you Johto people! You’re from Johto, right? You don’t have to lower your voice like that and treat it as taboo. We Alolans aren’t ashamed by this kind of thing. But answering your question, yeah. I have. But I tell you something.”

This time, he leaned in closer. “I never hurt any of them. My pokémon are my long-time companions and friends that I have raised and gotten to know. Pokémon have personalities, just like people. And just like people, it takes time to form a long, fulfilling relationship. I’m not saying it’s easy, or that it should be easy. But by all means, it can be done.”

“Then do you condemn the businesses that sell sex with pokémon for profit?” I asked him.

“You mean the pokémon brothel? What’s it called, the PokéPalace? I’ll have you know none of us locals visit that place, myself included. It’s for tourists, or folks from the mainland who have settled down here recently.”

I pulled out something from my briefcase. “This is a cyndaquil, owned by a young eight-year old boy. I want you to take a good look at it.”

“Mm-hmm.” He picked up the photo print of Mrs. Macintosh’s son, standing at the trailhead of the jungle: smiling, petting his pokémon. The photo was taken many years ago. Too many years ago for Mrs. Macintosh.

“The boy killed the pokémon with bleach in his food. Here is a photo of the corpse.” I shoved it into the Professor’s face. He flinched slightly. The cyndaquil was pale, eyes frozen in terror, the fire on its back extinguished. “The kid killed his own pokémon in cold blood. No remorse. In fact, he even _laughed._ And you deny that pokémon are not being abused in your so-called ‘perfect Alolan society’?”

 “Not at all, I agree with you on that,” the Professor replied calmly. “The kid needs to be punished. And our Alolan courts will deal with that. If anything, we condemn the cold-blooded murder of pokémon more than all you mainlanders do.

“Abusers of pokémon will always be around, no matter how many rules you impose,” he said.  “But by penalizing the humans who conduct responsible and ethical relationships with pokémon, you’re not differentiating the good from the bad.

“I mean, what harm could happen with a consensual, long-term relationship with a pokémon?”

* * *

 

**Sandra**

It had been the 30th time we met each other at the PokéPalace, a sort of anniversary I guess. But every time felt just as new, just as refreshing.

“AAAHH!” The sylveon squealed ever louder as I pulled his ribbons, his body pressing against mine. I did think that even a pokémon would have grimy sweat around him. But I did not think that his sweat could smell so…sweet.

“Yeah…that’s right…scream…feels…so good…” I gasped, pulling at his ribbons. He always loved me to do that.

“AAAHH…!” We both screamed. I felt his heat inside of me. And then his ribbons drooped, and he grew limp and tired on the bed.

 _BAM-BAM!_ I heard a sound. I thought at first that the manager was pounding on the door, groveling for more money. Had it been an hour already? But it was the window.

I walked up to the window. There was no one there. I feared my husband. He was intelligent, and remarkably athletic. He could have easily climbed up the three-storey wall of the building to reach me. Amis took very much after his father.

“Mmm…?” The sylveon looked at my tense face, cocking his head a little.

“My son killed his cyndaquil today,” I admitted my worries to him.

“Mmm…?”

“The pokémon was just…choking…gagging…and all Amis did was stared.” No. Not just stared. “He stared and laughed. Loud. By the time I got there it was too late.”

“It just makes me wonder—“ I paused. The sylveon retained his unsullied smile. Was he even listening? My face turned morose. Did the sylveon even understand? Did he feel what I felt, see what I see, kiss what I kissed? Or he was just another oblivious pokémon.

I looked at him. He was still smiling, his eyes the same lovely liquid blue. _Oh. I see._

Then perhaps I was just as much of a pokémon abuser as my son was.

I lay flat on my tummy, looking at the lying-down sylveon in the eye. I was close enough to smell the sweet scent of his breath.

“Did you hear all that? Hmm? Did you?”

His expression didn’t waver. He was like a statue. Perhaps his conscience was only a figment of my imagination.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” No response. I giggled, thinking how silly it was to talking to a statue.

The sylveon finally responded: he giggled back. We laughed together for a few minutes, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

“Sing…sing me a song.” I told him. “Please.”

And with that, the notes of his disarming voice came out like dust in the wind. Like balloons drifting in a breeze. His voice was so light and high-pitched, like my son. I liked to think, when I closed my eyes, that it was my son singing.  But the feeling of fur in my fingers dispelled that myth. We were at the highest floor of the building, on the third floor. I wanted so much to cling onto the musical ones and fly away from this hell.

That was what was different. There was something about _us_ : me and the sylveon, that I couldn’t describe. It was told in the song, in lyrics of the pokémon lyrics that I couldn’t understand. There was something locked deep in the sylveon’s soft melody that told me it couldn’t be “abuse”.

But then he stopped singing, and my mind was beset with worry again.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Why did you stay with the lady?_

Because I had to. She’s my customer.

_But did you want to stay with her?_

Well, yeah, kinda. I felt sorry for her.

_Why is that?_

Her husband was violent. He beat her. And her son liked to hurt pokémon.

_What did they do?_

I saw the cuts and bruises on her arms. She also got hurt down there. Her husband beat her. And then she said her son killed the cyndaquil he had since he was a kid. He put bleach in the cyndaquil’s food, and he died. The lady said her son laughed a lot.

It’s like that time in the dark room, when Master’s people poked me with those needles, and put the burning liquid on my fur.

The lady cried when she told me the story about her son. She didn’t feel like having sex with me anymore. But she stayed with me for two hours anyway.

_Do you know what death is?_

Of course I do. [giggles] It’s when you stop breathing forever. And ever. You know, sometimes I can hold my breath for two or three minutes. After a while it starts feeling weird. I haven’t gone longer than three minutes. I think that must be how that cyndaquil felt when the lay’s son fed him the bleach. Like holding your breath, except you don’t have a choice.

_Do you hold your breath often?_

Only when I feel bad. When I hold my breath, there’s hope. There isn’t time to worry about things on a busy night. You’re counting seconds instead of years. Why is there hope? Maybe if I died, I could finally be able to count the years. [smiles]

* * *

**Christine**

The two years of investigation prior to the raid was not spent in vain. I, for example, was given the honor of compiling and estimating the brothel’s financial records, thanks to intelligence reports. Cameras were installed and stakeouts done to record the exact flow of clients through the door. Our agents entered undercover as clients to inquire about pricing, and then leave on some pretense (the price was too much, they didn’t want to get involved with something illegal).

Mrs. Macintosh had spent at least P1.5 million over the past two months on the sylveon, which amounts to 50 sessions with the pokémon: almost once a night.

Over the course of 90 days, our intelligence reported at least 8 regular clients (a few times a week), 30 occasional visitors (a few times a month), and 47 one-time visitors. Sessions cost on average, P45000 for two hours (the sylveon was considerably cheaper). Extensions cost P20000 per hour, and are an extremely lucrative tactic on the brothel’s part.

Based on these statistics, we calculated monthly revenues of about P33.5 million, not including impromptu tips by customers.

The Master, otherwise known as Kai Beverly, took a handsome salary of P1.7million a month, all tax-free of course. His staff of five people, including pokémon tamers, medics, and cleaners, each took a whopping salary of P1.1million a month: a payment for silence, more than anything else.

Food expenses were not counted. They were so negligible in comparison, that they weren’t even worthy of recording. Flour costs P50 per pound in bulk. This, along with miscellaneous costs (maintenance of the building, bribes to nearby businesses, etc.) adds to no more than P5 million a month.

Our intelligence reports found that the business made a profit of about P5.5 million a month, not a shabby sum.

But this leaves P15.8million of expenses unaccounted for. This confounded our entire investigation team for some time. Where was all this money going? We looked into the banker cords of the Hau’oli Regional Bank.

Consistently, every month, we found record of a P15.1 million wire transfer to Saffron City. Such high levels of money require a signature by the sender and recipient, to prove they were anticipating the money in advance. The recipient was signed:

_Giovanni._

The infamous leader of Team Rocket had signed the wire transfer in his name. Moreover, Saffron City is the headquarters of Team Rocket. This alone was not damning, however. There were plenty of people with the name Giovanni, and the handwriting was not a definite match. We would be crushed by their legal defense team.

“The only difference between defense lawyers and police is that police have morals,” one of my colleagues joked when I presented him with my evidence. “You’re gonna be fucked with this little proof.”

I prayed every night not to get fucked. My wish came true several months before the PokéPalace was raided. We had conducted an unrelated raid on an alleged hideout of Team Skull. Upon searching the person of one of the female grunts, I uncovered a small receipt in her pocket. It read:

_PokéPalace. Bill of services. July 5._

_Persons: 7._

_1 Primarina, male—2 hours: 51000_

_1 Sylveon, male—2 hours: 30000_

_2 Meowstic, female—2 hours: 2 x 40000_

_4 Lopunny, female—2 hours: 4 x 30000_

_Extension +1hr (8 pokémon): 8 x 20000_

_Extension +1hr (8 pokémon): 8 x 20000_

_Extension +1hr (8 pokémon): 8 x 20000_

_40% discount (Team Skull member): -304400_

_Total P456600_

Written at the bottom, in different handwriting:

_Will reimburse your party. I will fill out form for you all. Contact Giovanni to arrange details._

“What do you know about this?” I confronted the female grunt in interrogation.

“I didn’t arrange the party,” she said calmly, seemingly oblivious to my anger. “Someone gave the receipt to me. This is the first time I’ve looked at it.”

I shoved the receipt into her face. “Look at the receipt. It says Giovanni on it. Tell me: how is Giovanni linked to the brothel?”

The grunt pushed my hand with the receipt away from her face. Her eyes turned fierce, but in reality she was fearful; trembling.

“I…I suggest you don’t say that name,” she said after a long silence, “If you value your life…Ms. Christine.”

I got as far as crumpling the receipt. But I did not throw it away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Thanks for reading! As always, I appreciate your comments/kudos/criticism.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Sylveon**

_What do you dislike the most about your work?_

Sometimes clients do things to me that hurt. I have to do them anyway, ‘cause well, they’re my clients. I don’t like them to pull at my ribbons. They’re painful. Some of them like to beat me with their belts. They think blood looks pretty on me.

_You get cuts?_

Yeah. They hurt a lot. One time this man took these metal things. I saw you put them on the lady when your people took her away.

_You mean handcuffs?_

Yes. That’s right. Handcuffs. The man put the handcuffs on my legs, so I couldn’t move. Then he went inside me. In the place where your poop comes out. I couldn’t spread my legs because of the handcuffs. So it hurt a little. That man visited me at least ten times, I think. I guess it hurt a lot then. It hurt to go poo for a few days after.

_Do you fight back when your customers try to hurt you?_

Yeah, sometimes. See my teeth? [shows teeth] They’re really sharp. A lot of my customers are surprised when they see them. They think I look so cute, and then I open my mouth. [giggles] Sometimes if my attacks don’t work, I just bite them really hard. Or I eat the pieces of cloth they always cover their body with. That always makes humans feel embarrassed, for some reason.

_What happens if your clients get hurt?_

Of course, the clients complain. The lady scolded me. Some people complain to Master. But Master doesn’t care. He tells them it’s part of the risk of fucking a wild pokémon. He only cares if his pokémon get hurt.

_So what happens when you get hurt?_

Well I get used to it. After a few hours the blood freezes because it’s too cold outside of my warm body. Then it doesn’t hurt so bad. [smiles] Occasionally Master will use this special spray bottle with a special healing liquid. It feels much better after that. But Master only uses the magic spray if I make enough money for him.

_Do you understand what money is for?_

Yeah. Money is pieces of paper that humans give worth to. So things can be worth a certain amount of money, so they can buy it. I guess. I dunno, it doesn’t make much sense to me. [giggles]

_What kind of things have monetary value?_

Clothes, candy, food. You know. Things. That’s a silly question. [giggles]

_So how do you feel that humans have put monetary value on you?_

I don’t mind, really. That deosnt’ make me a thing. They can think whatever they want, I’m still only worth whatever I declare myself to be.

_That’s quite noble of you. Do you feel that right has been taken from you?_

[silence] I guess. But…I’ve…I’ve got used to it. I…I have, I really…[silence]. You…you know how many times I look out of my window? It’s made of glass. Really strong glass that I can’t break. But I can see. I can see everything. Humans and pokémon laughing, crying, playing, eating. No, I’m wrong. I never got used to it. [crying] How is anyone supposed to stay trapped in a room _forever_!? How is anyone expected to used to _that_!?

* * *

**Sandra**

For days, the sounds of the sylveon were music to my ears. Sometimes an aria would be crooned gently in my ear, surrounded by auras of pink light. Sometimes a symphony pounded in my ears, pulsating through my veins. And I wondered if he was hearing the same music.

But of course every time the music gripped me, the sylveon would grip me tighter, push me further into the soft mattress. When the rhythm sank deeper into me, he pushed deeper still. I would moan as the mattress springs pressed harder on me, his length reaching further inside of me.

And he would smile with a sort of demented satisfaction. That naughty little pokémon always _loved_ to be on top when we made love.

All the time, reality seemed to be a step ahead of the magical musical fantasy playing in my mind. I tugged at his ribbons, pulling the reins as time charged forward. But when the reality stopped at a moment, it became a wall in the road—bringing the fantasy to a screeching halt as well.

It took me some time to learn that he did not like his ribbons to be tugged at. I figured it out during the day when I thought I knew everything about that pokémon. It had been ninety days since we met.

“Mmm…mmm…EEEEEE!!!” He would screech, his voice not getting the least bit hoarse at the highest squeaks.

“That’s it…oh boy you love it, yes you do…” I yanked at his ribbons in the heat of passion.

“EEEEE!!!” He pushed me into the mattress. Hard. So hard that I could even feel his blunt claws pressing on my arms, normally concealed by an inch of thick fur.

He desperately tried to sing a song to me. It wasn’t very effective, because he was already short of breath from thrusting into me. Pink rings of light filled the room. As if by magic, the tension in my hands eased—if only momentarily. I had gotten too used to his songs. The lively passion burning within me sprung back. I tugged at his ribbons again.

“Tell me…more…tell me…you love it…” I was short of breath. Touching his ribbons gave me life.

“EEEEE!!!” He pushed harder, deeper. His legs froze, as if paralyzed. I blamed his tension on lust, but I had an inkling it was more than that.

He reached his head down to kiss my bare breast. He had never done that before. My eyes drooped, my body lost strength—what was the lightest touch became the most intense feeling. And my muscles and eyelids heavy, I was helpless against the tingling feelings on my sensitive body. It was more powerful than the song. But the sedative kiss only made the passionate heat fire back up even stronger.

“Ohhh….ahhh…mmm…” I bit into his left ribbon. My teeth grinded passionately against the fine fur coating it. The floral smell crept up for not more than a second.

“EEEE…AAAAH!” The bliss ended. The sylveon had not ejaculated yet, though. I was confused, but not for more than a second. I would wish for the confusion after I discovered the truth.

“AAAAAAAH…OW!” I screamed. He sunk his teeth into my flesh.

He smiled briefly, satisfied that I was finally subdued. “AAAAH!” He yelled at me again. I wasn’t sure what he was saying. But if I knew, he probably would be saying:

_“Aren’t you lovely? Doesn’t your flesh and blood taste so lovely? Don’t you feel the pain? Isn’t the pain so lovely?”_

So I went along with it.

He bit me again. He drew more blood. Could it really have been some sort of perverted fantasy that pokémon had? Pleasure through battle? No. It wasn’t that. The fierce, glimmering blue eyes of the sylveon told me I was wrong.

“STOP IT! STOP IT!” I yelled.

He shouted even more. Then he walked to a corner of the bed and bit into my clothes strewn on the bed with his surprisingly sharp fangs. He pulled his ribbons close to him, defensively. I could not touch him as he destroyed my possessions, which he declared to be worthless pieces of cloth.

And for once, I was frightened by those aqua blue eyes. I could say I was…captivated by him, but not in the innocent, loving way that it once was. I was captivated by his domineering stance above me, lying flat, helpless, on my back. His icy blue gaze. I pulled the blanket over my naked body as the sylveon tore through my clothes. It had become colder all of a sudden. What was I without my clothes? My family?

“Please, stop!” I cried out to the pokémon, one last time. He did not listen. He continued shredding my clothes.

“Goddamn it, you fucking piece of shit! What the hell d’you think you’re doing to me!?” I blurted out.

This time, he looked up. All he did was smiled. That same, innocent carefree smile, a shred of fabric hanging from his mouth. It was disgusting. And yet it was so beautiful. It was something I couldn’t bear to leave.

What was I without the sylveon?

* * *

**Christine**

“Did you get that down?” I yelled to my work partner. “Quickly, write it down! Unknown woman 6 says to unknown pokémon 4: ‘…you fucking piece of shit.’ That’s definite evidence of abuse right there, verbal at the very least. I also hear sounds of…not sure…it sounds like…tearing flesh. Don’t tell me the woman’s actually biting that poor pokémon, some kinky fantasy of hers.”

“Lemme pull up the record…woman 6…activity record…here we are.” He wrote down the dialog. “Got it. What pokémon species is it that we’re hearing in the background?”

“Off the top of my head, I’d say a sort of eevee, but I’m not sure,” I said, trying to listen closely to the high-pitched vocalizations. “The pokémon voice expert’s coming in at 9am to analyze the sound.”

“Yeah, no fucking chance anyone in Hau’oli is gonna come see us at 3am…except a bunch of lunatics.”

Looking at the clock, I took a sip of my coffee. After much effort, for the last two months before the final raid, our undercover agents, disguised as customers, managed to plant hidden microphone bugs into several key locations in the pokémon brothel.

At least two police officers were listening 24/7, in shifts, nonstop for 60 days. At this particular time of night, I was on duty along with agent Looker, another senior International Police agent.

“Heh,” he scoffed loudly with the headphones over him. “If had known I’d be listening to a bunch of horny pokémon for four hours, I’d have gotten another job.”

I removed one side of my headphones. “You can’t believe that those pokémon are actually enjoying being abused by humans.”

“Maybe not, but would I be surprised if they were? Nah. Pokémon are more similar to us humans than we think. Like the beliefs of Team Plasma, when I was pursuing them. They base their ideology on the time when humans coexisted with pokémon, thousands of years ago. And it’s a true story, widely accepted by scholars.”

I didn’t reply. I put on my headphones again, and let myself be swallowed by the sounds of vice and sin. Despite that, I felt alone in my relentless pursuit against the PokéPalace. I had not done much undercover work during my nearly 20-year police career, unlike many other senior agents. This was crucial: Looker always said getting to know your enemy was the most important part of an investigation…even if it meant swaying occasionally to the side of evil.

The PokéPalace case was only my second international case. Before, I worked for 15 years in the Olivine Police Department in Johto, before receiving enough recognition to be recommended for a senior position in the International Police.

“What’s the matter, Christine? You seem down.”

“Wouldn’t you feel down listening to hours of pokémon sexual abuse on overtime?”

“We humans have our needs too. What makes you think pokémon don’t feel the same feelings and take pleasure in the same things that we do?”

I did not reply.

 “What’s the matter?” He asked again.

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter!!!” I removed my headphones and slammed them on the table. “We’re the police! We _stop_ the criminals! They sure as hell don’t stop _us_!” I let my hands swallow my face. Tears did not come out—my sleepless eyes were too raw and dry for tears.

Looker stopped teasing. “No matter how bad the criminals are, they are _human beings_ , Christine.” He sighed. “That’s something you only learn after many years of undercover work.”

Finally tears came out. I was tempted to put on my headphones just to filter out Looker’s words. Even the tortuous sounds of pokémon abuse would have been less painful than this.

He quickly changed his tone. “Was…was I being insensitive?”

“You’re damn right you’re being insensitive! I asked for you to come all the way from Sinnoh, just for you to launch a whole smear campaign against my case, supporting Team Plasma and those perverts running that…that…pokémon _abuse_ center!” I pointed at my headphones.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Looker apologized. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, it’s not your fault. Am I the only one that what the PokéPalace is doing is wrong? I mean, why is there no one, no one—not even my fellow agents—who even has the guts to say such a fucking simple thing!?”

Looker scooted in a bit closer. “Of course something criminal is going on, Christine. And we’re gonna stop them. And I’m sorry if I gave you an impression otherwise. You just have to be careful. If you say something’s wrong just because you’ve been told to follow it in a case, you’re just being blindly loyal.

“As an International Police, you are an independent agent, not a police officer. You have to make your own judgments sometimes. International law is so vague that sometimes there is no clear right or wrong. That’s what makes it different from regional police work.”

I nodded weakly, but that was all. I just wanted the argument to end. “We…we better get back to…to listening in.”

“Yeah, of course.” Looker rolled his chair back to his spot and put on his headphones.

We agreed to disagree. Of course Looker, being a lifelong bachelor (married to his job), would lack sympathy for the pokémon victims of the brothel. Perhaps if he wasn’t doing this job, he would be a customer himself.

Me, I am different. Unlike many International Police agents, I have a family, who lives in Johto. My partner Jan cares for my two sons in Olivine, where she works in sales at an office building. Of course my job as an International Police demands much time away from home. I spend, cumulatively, about 10 months out of 12 on the job. My only claim to the family is that biologically, both sons are mine—I provided the body, if nothing else.

My 9-year-old son Edison has an eevee himself, who he has trained in battle for several years now. (Perhaps that was part of the reason why I grew so attached to the case regarding, in particular, the sylveon victim.) Last time I was at home, his eevee, “Solomon”, was getting remarkably good at its double edge attack. He wants it to evolve into an espeon, the psychic type. On the last night before I was scheduled to fly to Alola, I asked Edison why he wanted an espeon.

“If Solomon becomes espeon, then he could use telepathy to send your hugs to me when you’re far far away. What do you think? Is that a good idea, Mommy Christy?”

Sometimes if I zoned out the high-pitched cries of abused pokémon, it would resemble the cries of my own two boys as they were begging me not to go, not to go, to please please play with them for a few more minutes.

My career in police has taken hours, months, years of my time with my family—and I don’t even bat an eye. All my good children asked for was a few minutes more of my time and I couldn’t even give them that!?

I teared up again. Perhaps it was my fault for feeling so down. It was _my fault_ for sympathizing with the pokémon victims. It was _my fault_ for having emotions. It was just that I hoped that I could care for the struggling victims of contemptible international crimes better than I could ever care for my own children.

“Hey,” Looker said after a while. “Interesting conversation out of line 1, front desk.”

“Okay. Tuning in,” I said as I pressed the switch.

“You’re not the Lilycove Department Store,” one oddly familiar voice said. “You don’t give out receipts. Did I ever fucking tell you to give out receipts?”

“No, Mr. Giovanni. Of course not,” another man said. (This voice, unknown man #2, we later identified as the manager of the PokéPalace, Kai Beverly.)

 “Now, I wanna know why that receipt was found on that Team Skull member. I blame it on you.”

Mr. Beverly said, “No! No, Mr. Giovanni, with all due respect I—“

We heard a gunshot.

“Send a bus to the building! Fast!” I called out. I wasn’t sure how many people were on duty at the office at 4am, going on 5am.

“No, wait!” Looker stopped me. “I can hear something. I think it’s a false alarm. I hear the same two voices. Doesn’t sound like anyone got hurt. The gun must’ve been fired to the ceiling as a threat or something.”

There was some crackling, some faint, muted conversation, and then a loud booming voice came on.

“Who the hell is this…!?” The sound pierced our ears more than the gunshot. It was a voice all International Police recognized. Even Looker could not dispute: it was the voice of pure evil.

It was Giovanni.

The last we heard of him were violent cracking and snapping sounds, and then the microphone went dead.

Giovanni most likely organized a search with Mr. Beverly to crush any remaining microphones. Soon after, 5 more microphones were met with the same fatal cracking and snapping sounds. Only the microphone in the top floor room remained undamaged: the room where the sylveon and Mrs. Macintosh frequently occupied.

They did not find where we hid it: behind an unused case of potion bottles in the room. Of course the staff at the brothel would never go near such a thing.

“Oh, would you look at that, the sun’s coming up,” I commented. “The regular staff will be coming in soon. I’ll…I’ll inform them of the damaged microphones. See if we can get some new ones in there. The time is just right to conduct a raid, I can feel it; we can’t afford to lose our case now.”

“I’ve learned not to trust hunches, Christine. But whatever. You’re actually gonna go ahead with this raid?” Looker asked me, leaning back in his chair.

“Of course. I’ve sent 20 backup officers from Johto. They’ll be here in Hau’oli in a few days. I’ve arranged for them to meet in my office to prepare for the raid when they arrive.”

“You are ready?” Looker asked, rather dubiously. He was being serious.

“Yes, we almost are. We have enough evidence from the wiretap and intelligence reports. It’s time to crush this illegal institution.”

“No, I mean, are _you_ ready?” He gave me genuinely concerned look.

“Of course I am. I don’t quite understand your question.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the pokémon prostitution business, Christine. That close call with Team Rocket just proved it to me. It’s a massive tangled web you’ll be diving into. It might mold you more than you could ever mold them.”

I bristled. “This is my case, Looker. What do you know about the matter?”

He put his hands up. “All right, all right, we’re all tired. Maybe I spoke out of turn. I’m saying just be careful, and watch the can of worms you’ll be opening when you conduct this raid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Thanks for reading! As always, your comments/criticism/feedback are all appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Christine**

_At 0200 hours, International Police agents, led by senior agents LOOKER and CHRISTINE, entered the front entrance of the PokéPalace._

_At 0202 hours, International Police agents entered the room where Mrs. Sandra MACINTOSH  [Defendant #6] and a SYLVEON [Victim #4] were present._

_At 0202 hours, International Police agent LOOKER shot the suspect in question, with a standard-issue rapid-fire semi-automatic rifle. Mrs. MACINTOSH was shot twenty [20] times within three [3] seconds. Blood spattered in all directions, including in agent LOOKER’s eye [his wounds were treated on the scene], agent CHRISTINE’s chest, which was obscured by a bulletproof vest, and on the SYLVEON’s fur._

_At 0205 hours, International Police agents noted Mrs. MACINTOSH as a confirmed kill._

_The SYLVEON approached the body of Mrs. MACINTOSH. It cried for approximately 2 hours. International Police agents did not leave the room. They stared at the SYLVEON, in a non-aware trance state [the SYLVEON had forced_ _the agents into a trance]. Pink sparkling lights filled the room during this time._

_At 0401 hours, International Police agents reported being suddenly freed from the trance state. Agents prepared to take the SYLVEON into custody for its own safety. Before this could happen, the SYLVEON mysteriously collapsed to the floor, as if hit by an invisible gunshot. Its entire body was picked up off the floor and hit the wall with very high force._

_The SYVLEON began vomiting blood. Its eyes slowly turned from light blue to a jet black. This occurred approximately between 0403 hours and 0416 hours. International Police agents will testify that they did not harm or handle the pokémon in any way whatsoever._

_The SYLVEON’s last words:_

_“EEEE…!!!” It was likely in severe pain. More blood flowed out of its mouth._

_“EEEE…!!!” Its blood began to stain the hardwood floor._

_“EEEEEEEE…!!!” His crimson blood began to reach our shoes. His blood would stain our footsteps forever._

_“EEEEEEEE…!!!”_

_“EEEEEEEE…!!!”_

_“EEEEEEEE…!!!”_

_“EEEEEEEE…!!!”_

*******

I woke up to a cold sweat. When your life revolves so much around your career, it is only natural that your dreams take the shape of case reports.

This was the dream I had about three nights before the raid was to be conducted. In retrospect, I can say that the details of my dream do not match with the actual circumstances of the raid as it occurred. Guns were not used in the raid, and no suspects or pokémon were killed.

I have never really believed in the magical, the mythical. The Hau’oli Weather Observatory did not report any strange objects in the sky during the night I had this disturbing dream.

Although the details do not literally match, after that dream I now believe that our dreams do somewhat foreshadow our future.

* * *

**Sandra**

I have never been one to believe in the magical. My whole life had led me to lose faith in such fanciful notions. But the sylveon, of course, was a fairy type. And it was him that made me believe in magic again. The times I had known him before…were just the beginning.

The magic began with a harsh reality. Shortly after the sylveon had most ungraciously ripped through my clothes, we heard shouting outside the door.

Without my clothes on, I opened a crack in the door to see what was happening. The sylveon did not bother to join me.

Then there was a shot. With my ear close to the metal doorknob, I felt the shockwave as the sound travelled through the framework.

Suddenly the sylveon scurried to me. He did not scream, just cried under his breath. _Haa…haaa…_ The brashness he had displayed tearing at my clothes had vanished. I felt his soft fur covered in a coat of clammy sweat. We both fell to the ground in shock, holding each other.

The ceiling was caving in on us as the splintery wooden floor beckoned us to sink deeper. My eyes were tricking me, I’m sure of it. Yet the moment never felt so real. Reality felt so much like hell.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Did you see other humans at the brothel, other than your clients and Master?_

Yes. There were two men downstairs one night. They weren’t customers, no. They just talked with Master. That was the night the lady broke me out of the building.

_Sandra did?_

Yes. We had already fucked two times when there was this really loud commotion in the lobby. It must’ve been really loud, because we were on the third floor and the lobby is on the ground floor.

_What did you hear?_

I heard voices. Arguing voices. There was a man. Some men. I heard the word “Rocket”. “Rocket”. “Rocket”. That’s all I could hear.

The lady opened a crack in the door. She peeked outside to take a look. The lady forgot to put her clothes on.

There were two men talking to the Master. The Master said, “No, Mr. Giovanni. Of course not.”

The one man said, “Now, I wanna know why that receipt was found on that Team Skull member. I blame it on you.”

Then Master said, “No! No, Mr. Giovanni, with all due respect I—“

There was a gunshot. The lady quickly shut the door. It was loud. Really loud. My ears are really big, so they’re very sensitive. The lady shielded them with her arms. It was nice. Her body felt warm.

_What happened next?_

She looked at me. She was shaking. She was really afraid. I thought, what could scare the lady so much? How can a human be scared by a fellow human?

“C’mon, we…we have to leave here,” the lady told me.

She took me one of my ribbons. I screamed: “EEEEE…!” It hurt really bad.

“Shut up! They’re gonna hear us!” She scolded me. She looked mad.

She climbed out of the window. She carried me like a baby with one arm, but that wasn’t necessary. I should have protected the lady instead of her protecting me.

Then she started running. Fast. There was a field of grass lit by stars and the moonlight. She ran towards the moonlight. She was panting a lot. Like she usually is when we have sex.

She didn’t seem mad at me anymore. She smiled a little. “I did it…I did it…” she was murmuring under her breath. She didn’t look scared anymore.

* * *

**Christine**

“Here is the report, Agent Christine,” Looker handed me an unsealed sheet of paper. “Voice expert confirms it is a male sylveon in the brothel, probably originating from Kalos, but he’s not sure.”

I quickly dropped the memo I was drafting, and stood up from my desk. “Can he piece out what the sylveon is saying in the pokémon language?” I asked.

“He says it’s mostly exclamations, with no particular meaning.”

“Hmm, I see. Could we get the expert to stay in Hau’oli for a couple more days? I may want him to help interpret the pokespeech once we conduct the raid.”

“In a couple days?” Looker was skeptical. “And you’re sure you’ve got everything ready?”

“Yes, in fact I’m just writing out the protocol we should follow. I’m starting from scratch here. I don’t think International Police has ever attempted a raid on a pokémon brothels.”

“Nah, of course we’ve tried to take down the brothels. Just no one’s been brave enough to follow through,” he smiled, perhaps with a tinge of envy. “You’re a remarkable woman, Christine, you’re sure to go a long long way,” he added, continuing to smile at me.

Without warning, he reached to gently touch my hand. I quickly pulled away, chuckling a little at his embarrassing mistake.

“Whoa, whoa there, Looker, don’t get me wrong, you’re a good friend but…” I tried to hold my laughter. “You’re not my type. You’re _really_ not my type. I’m not…like that. I’m…like _that_.”

“You don’t mean…?”

I nodded, still laughing at him.

His face quickly softened. “Oooh…gotcha.” He wiped his hand on his pants. “Errr…sorry ‘bout that.” He chuckled nervously, trying not to look at me.

“Hey, listen,” I said, “I’m heading a meeting with all the International Police agents in Hau’oli to prepare for the raid. I’d appreciate it if you would sit in.” Looker was obviously more experienced, and could help me with tweaking my from-scratch protocol.

“Ok. Sure thing.”

* * *

**Sandra**

I did not want to see how dirty my feet were as I ran, naked, clinging on to the bits of fabric that were my clothes. It was a whole another world in Alola; nothing like Johto. The heat was stifling, even late at night. Bug pokémon were crawling around the muddy ground. If they had the chance they would bite me, their fangs delivering an excruciating poison.

So I had to run. Run, run, run, wherever the clearest path was. Nothing grew perfectly in the real world. It moved up, down, curving in many directions. And so the path we took had many twists and turns, like a maze: the destination never clear.

Reality was never clear.

Eventually we ran into the jungle, me still cradling the sylveon in my arms. The sweat made it harder and harder for me to hold onto him, and he accidentally slipped from my arms. I dove forward to try to prevent him from falling onto the mud and tainting his crystal-white fur. I tripped over a thick tree root on the trail and fell face first.

I squinted my eyes as my skin became decorated with red spots and cuts, mixed in with salty sweat. The mud was too sticky and my body stinging too much to be able to get up from the ground. I still managed to catch the sylveon, though. I was proud of that. There he was, still resting in my outstretched arms. His eyes closed, still fast asleep.

I looked one way, I looked the other way. I was one an unmarked trail in the jungle, surrounded by dense undergrowth. There were only two choices: down the hill, up the hill. The choice was simple. And yet I did not have the courage to make a move. This was reality, after all. In the real world, I had to always keep moving.

How foolish of me to stay put.

I found a freshly killed oddish on the trail floor, within arm’s reach. I had not realized how long it had been since I had eaten, and the running had made me hungry. I grabbed the pokémon corpse in my hand. But before I could even take a bite, I felt a sharp sting in my belly.

“RRRR!!!”

It was a bug pokémon—an araidos—who snarled at me for stealing his dinner. I felt threads upon threads of spider silk trapping my body to the ground. My arms still cradled the sylveon as my torso was restrained. His eyes remained closed, without expression.

“Wake up…wake up…help me…help me…” I tried to plead to the sylveon. But his eyes remained hopelessly closed.

I screamed as I felt the poison slowly seeped into me, causing my muscles to spasm uncontrollably. My voice echoed in the night: Arceus’ way of laughing at me for my utter stupidity. My knees oozed with blood. And yet, in all my pain, I did not know what was my next step. I was lost: lost in the sinuous path carved in the deep jungle.

“Help me…help me…” my voice grew more raspy as the poison constricted my throat. My eyes twirled in the homogenous dark. I could not even see the trail anymore. I was beginning to hallucinate from the lack of air, faint points of white light dotting the dark night like stars.

But then I saw a single faint point of pink light, around where the sylveon was sleeping. The moon suddenly glowed with greater intensity. Then in the muddled darkness a bright pink orb of light formed—for a moment as bright as the afternoon sun. The pink orb hit the ariados. The ariados being so close to me, I felt the same light hit me. Nestled in the warm glow, the spasms from the poison began to fade.

I felt the pink light would burn my flesh, yet somehow I did not die. Nor did I suffer. I was just burning, burning, engulfed by a bright pink, never-ending flame. It burned the strongest in my heart. I heard the sylveon’s cries echoing in my head: “EEEEE!!! EEEEEE!!!” The light exuded his semen-hot spirit.

When the light faded, I realized that the sylveon had attacked the ariados. The bug-type had the power of the jungle, though. And the earth was always so much more powerful than the moon. The sylveon, however, had substantially weakened the ariados. He spoke with the ariados for a few minutes, in their own language. Then the bug pokémon calmly left us, as if by magic.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Why did you save the lady from the ariados?_

The lady was in pain. She said “help me”. So I helped her. That’s what a friend does. So I used my moonblast to whup that ariados. And then the lady didn’t cry anymore. I was glad. I wanted to save the lady.

_Even though she hurt you? Pulled at your ribbons?_

I dunno. I guess that’s bad. But there’re a lot of not-bad things about her. She carried me the whole time when we ran out of the building. When she dropped me, she dove forward to try and stop me from falling to the mud.

_You were awake?_

Yeah, I was. I could hear everything that was going on. But I closed my eyes because it made the lady happier. She likes it when I sleep. When she caught my fall, she whispered to me, “There now, there now. Everything’s okay. Sleep now. Sleep now.” I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.

_Why were you able to shoo away the ariados?_

You mean besides my attack? [giggles] Well, I told the ariados not to hurt the lady.

“She is my friend,” I told him. “A very very special friend.”

“You mean she is your mate?” The araidos asked me. I never heard of this word before, “mate”. But it sounded good to me, the lady being my “mate”. So I said, “Yes, she is my mate.”

“Ah, I see. Then I will leave you. I am so sorry to bother your family.”

I wanted to ask him what the word “family” means, but he went away before I could say anything.

* * *

**Christine**

“Something to remember,” I said at the meeting. “Alola is very hot. Even at night, it might be above 30 Celsius. We’re gonna be wearing full bulletproof vests and headgear, so it’s important to stay hydrated. We want to be in top shape so we get in there and out of there as soon as possible. Any questions?”

One junior agent, who flew in from Unova, raised his hand. “Could you go over the protocol as to shooting suspects inside the building?”

“Yes.” I had planned a speech to answer this question. “We have reason to believe the manager and other human staff at the brothel are armed with guns. However, do not, I repeat, do NOT shoot them.”

I saw several raised eyebrows among the agents.

“I realize this goes against protocol that persons that are a serious threat to public safety should be shot. But do whatever you can to make sure they are not killed. It is important that they fully atone for their crimes, not just become a martyr to the criminal cause.

“We will have trained raichu on duty. Special agents who will come with us will supervise the pokémon as they electrocute the suspects without killing them. It is more effective than a gun.”

I saw Looker, who sat quietly in the back of the room, smirk a little. Pokémon were used by International Police, but generally as friendly companions or to fight against enemy pokémon, not humans. Perhaps it took a more inexperienced, naïve Agent like me to come up with such an out of the box plan.

“Do you not think it is immoral to face a pokémon against a gun, though?” The Unova agent said skeptically.

“It is a risk we have to make. We are fighting for the welfare of pokémon who have been sexually exploited. It is only right that pokémon should be fighting for their fellow pokémon. As their equals, we humans cannot deny pokémon this right.”

Looker’s eyes widened. Perhaps my time at Alola had really changed my views of pokémon and humans coexisting.

A female agent from Sinnoh, who had been quiet for much of the meeting, raised her hand. “Erm…this is rather a strange question…but…what if the pokémon at the brothel tries to fight back, against you? What if they _don’t_ want to leave? What if they became sympathetic to their captors?”

“I find that unlikely,” I said.

“But say it did happen…?”

I did not plan for this. “Then…the raichu will electrocute the pokémon, and they will be apprehended. Just like a human enemy. No difference.”

It was my gut response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. Sorry I've been a bit sluggish with updates...it's been a busy summer for me! But thanks for reading, and your feedback is greatly appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Sandra**

I spent a sleepless night holding the sylveon, fast asleep in my arms. The little rascal. Always dozing off after sex. He was damn heavy to carry after a while.

Early that morning, when the sun rose, I walked back home to take a rest. It was a long trudge through winding jungle trails and later confusing streets and dead ends, so by the time I got home the house was empty. Amis had left for school, and my husband had gone to work.

Finally responding when I put him down on the couch, the sylveon woke up inside my living room.

"Mmmm…?" He stared curiously.

I walked up to him. "No, no, no, dear, everything's fine."

"Mmmm…!" He stared at his belly.

"Oh…you must be hungry. I'll go get you something."

Suddenly, his eyes fully opened, and he realized exactly where he was—not the brothel. "MMM! MMM!" He panicked. He turned to me.

"Don't worry, I'll be back, I'm just going to the bathroom to freshen up first."

"MMM…! MMMM!" His ribbons waved around frantically, his eyes dancing around in the unfamiliar environment.

I went up to him. He stopped screaming. "It's okay, it's okay, what's wrong?"

His fur was covered with a fresh layer of nervous sweat, his big blue eyes glued to the ceiling. It was the ceiling fan, spinning around and around. I watched his eyes as he tried to trace his path. He covered his belly defensively with his ribbons, staring up at the suspicious object.

"Relax…relax. It's okay. It's not going to fall. Nothing's ever gonna fall on us." Then I started walking away.

"MMM! MMM! EEEE!" He started screaming again. This time, his voice broke and the sound became shrill. After two minutes of this, he lost his voice and settled with silent trembling.

It was only when I looked at myself in the mirror on the way to the kitchen that I realized I was completely naked. Just like the sylveon, or any other pokémon. Funny how natural it felt after a while.

After I had showered and dressed, I opened up the fridge. There was some salmon thawing out, some chicken drumsticks, and assorted berries and vegetables inside.

I picked up a pecha berry, because I had started feeling giddy: I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had eaten. I bit into it, the juices spraying out and onto the floor—some things never change—and spit it out. The seed, that is. I guess some things do change.

"Do you wanna come over here and see what you would like…erm…?" I called to the sylveon.

There wasn't any answer. The sylveon lay silently on the couch belly up, refusing to get up. Heh. He was lazier than my son.

I handed the sylveon a pecha berry as well. I didn't know what he liked—I never saw him eat any food before—but the color of the berry seemed to match his light pink fur, so I went with that.

He grabbed it like a toy with his front ribbons, and then curled up into somewhat of a ball. He didn't want to eat fruit, so it seemed. Also like my son.

"C'mon, you gotta eat fresh fruit," I shoved it towards his mouth. "You haven't been getting enough to eat."

"Mmmm…MMM!" He grunted, albeit high-pitched. He pushed the pecha berry away with his ribbon.

I sat up straighter on the couch and stared down at him. "Tell me. What d'you wanna eat? C'mon, I haven't got all day." I also hadn't gotten any sleep.

The sylveon didn't respond. He just smiled up at me, that same innocuous smile that drove me wild every I night I went to visit. But it wasn't working on me today. Sunlight was pouring out of the window. Come to think of it, we had never met in the daytime until that moment. I guess there was something about the obscenely bright daylight that extinguished the subtle warm glow that emanated from him.

I drew the blinds. It didn't work. Sunlight still filtered in small lines across my face…like bars. I didn't like the bars in front of me. I don't think anyone would.

Finally giving up hope, I got up from the couch and walked over to my bedroom to get some rest. The sylveon immediately uncurled from the fetal position and stretched his hind legs out with the extra space. I sighed. He never wanted me. He just wanted my sex.

"I didn't bring you here to just lie there, y'know," I said at my bedroom door.

In the silence I heard the sound of crunching. When I turned around to see, the sylveon was biting into the pecha berry I gave him. It was an unfamiliar fruit to him, so he pared with his sharp fangs little by little, almost like it was a big tough coconut husk.

I stood and watched him from afar, lying on the couch for hours, slowly paring away at the pecha berry, the bars of light from the blinds decorating him.

Even after he finished eating and fell asleep, you could still see the fragments of sugar-sweet pecha flesh on his little fangs.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_What happened the lady took you to her house?_

We didn't fuck or anything. The lady was really tired, and I was really tired too. I'm most powerful when the moon is out, so in the daytime I'm really sluggish. I lied on the lady's soft chair most of the time. The lady got mad. She didn't want me to sit on the soft chair.

_How did that make you feel?_

I didn't like her house. [long pause] It was too big. It was scary. [long pause] So scary. So. So. Scary. [cries]

_[wipes tears with tissue] It's all right, it's all right. If the lady's house was so scary, then why did you stay and eat the pecha berry?_

The pecha berry was sweet. And if I ate it, she would look at me. She would look at me and protect me, make sure I was okay. I like it when she protects me.

_What's your favorite food to eat?_

It used to be candy…and I still like candy. [bites into 32nd lollipop] But my favorite food now is pecha berries.

* * *

**Christine**

I stepped out of the building immediately after I finished my meeting. It was a stifling hot day, hotter than usual even for Hau'oli. You could swear something was about to boil over. Nonetheless in the tension of my job, I still breathed easier outside.

"Shock them. Shock them. Just shock them. Just like that," I muttered to myself. At that point I had doubts about the case.

Looker appeared outside a few minutes later, still wearing his signature heavy coat despite the hot weather. "Ah, fuck, it's hot out here," he finally noticed, staring up at the sun. He was sweating profusely after a few minutes; but I didn't offer him any sympathy.

"It's not right," I thought out loud. "I feel it's right, but I _know_ it's not right. Pokémon aren't humans. They're the victims. We shouldn't be treating them like criminals. It's not their fault if they're bad."

Looker did not throw a stupid joke on me. Perhaps the heat had got to him. "That's your heart's attempt at sympathizing, Christine. And I respect that. But you might lose yourself if you think without knowing. That's what you're doing, the same damn thing that all ordinary police do: think without knowing, actually _knowing_. We're…"—he pointed to himself—"…not like that. Maybe your gut is wrong, the pokémon are victims that are suffering. But you don't know, and I admit it, neither do I."

Undercover work was always a fear of mine. I thought that change didn't happen just on the front lines, that all that mattered was careful management and the right tools. To me, the orders mattered more than the execution.

"This 'knowing' you talk about…" I began.

"Police work challenges your mind," Looker said, cutting me off. "Undercover work challenges your heart. What you're doing is police work."

My eyes widened. "Well…if you're so good at undercover work, Looker, why don't you go do the fucking undercover work yourself, pun intended!?" I guess when I'm hysterical, even I blurt out crude jokes. "You're the one who wanted to fuck all those 'horny pokémon'."

"Aw, c'mon you know I never said that!" Looker barked at me. He sounded different when he was angry. It was almost frightening.

"Aw, c'mon, I saw that little smirk on your face when you listened to those despicable humans raping those poor little pokémon. _Ugh._ You men are all the same. You just wanna screw, screw, _screw_. Yourself, your colleagues, your pokémon."

"Stay that again!?" He grabbed my shoulder and pulled my lighter frame towards him. I lost my footing on the pavement. I stared up at him, refusing to blink, watching the beads of sweat flowing down him enraged face.

"You listen to me, Chirstine," Looker said, his voice lightening up a little. "If I didn't want this case to succeed, why do you think I even came here to Alola?"

"But—"

He held his hand up. "Hold on. Lemme say something. I've been in this way longer than you, and I have more connections. And I must say you're causing a stir in the International Police committee. The right kind of stir. I've never seen an agent daring enough to treat a pokémon enemy as equal to a human enemy. And in my professional opinion, it's the right thing to do in this situation; but it's never easy to do the right thing.

"Part of doing the right thing, though, is to really get to know the situation, firsthand. You can go on all about what is and isn't the right thing. Knowing your enemy helps when you actually _execute_ the right thing. Regular police don't have the luxury of doing a high level of undercover work. Consider undercover work…a privilege." He smiled, his aged face showing his tired wrinkles. Ah, who was I kidding. I was about his age. But I guess in terms of my career in International Police, I was just starting out, like a little baby.

Being able to start all over again, at my age was a rare luxury. Perhaps part of Looker felt jealousy; jealousy that he could never turn back the clock, never return to that state of innocent naiveté. I smiled back at him.

"So will you go, Christine? To the brothel? It'll at least help you when you interview the suspects and victims later, to sympathize with them. While you're undercover, you'll have our full support in Hau'oli and in other International Police locations. I'll help coordinate the raid where you left off, and we'll arrive in a couple days. Sounds good?"

"Well…I'm a little scared." I admitted. "I'm not very experienced. And this is such a high-profile case. Why don't you go?"

Looker shook his head. "It's your case, Christine. You go. It is a risk we have to make. You are fighting for the welfare of pokémon who have been sexually exploited. I, as your equal, cannot deny you this right," he said, paraphrasing my own words. I laughed. I couldn't believe how right my original words actually were.

* * *

**Sandra**

When the sylveon woke up in the late afternoon, I took him out for a walk in the town. I didn't have to carry him, as he willingly walked on his own. I wanted him to hold his ribbon like a leash (or have him wrap his ribbon around my wrist, this behavior I've read in the literature), but he refused.

He was stubborn like that. For example, I don’t think in his lifetime he ever had to hide it under his sheath, either. He never thought of it being strange, having 8 inches of flesh dangling between his rear legs. It turned some heads—so many that I was beginning to think that the eyes were directed at me, who was walking by his side.People were glaring at me. Looking like I, presumably his trainer, had done something wrong. In truth, the sylveon was a free spirit. All pokémon are.

"Are you all right, Sandra?" A voice confronted me.

I flinched, covering my body with my chest, my breathing becoming more shallow.

"Don't be silly, it's only me."

I relaxed a bit when I saw it was the sweet old lady, Tania—she wouldn't hurt a magikarp.

"How are you, Sandra dear…and who is this little friend here?" Tania knelt down to look at the sylveon. He smiled at her. "Well, aren't you pretty…?"

Tania stood back up. "What's her name?" she asked me.

" _His_ name," I corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she chuckled. "I shouldn't make assumptions. Well, erm, he sure is handsome, isn't he, with the little bows? What's his name, you were saying?"

"I haven't given him a name."

Tania frowned slightly. "Oh…why's that?"

"I…I just didn't feel like it," I replied.

"Oh, really? I give all my pokémon names, even the wild ones that always visit my garden. Giving a pokémon a name shows you have that true, personal connection with them. So it's like they're your equal. They're not 'Litten', they're 'Tommy' or 'Felix'.

"If you don't give pokémon names, it's like you're detached…not true companions."

It became silent all of a sudden. Coincidentally, the beachgoers nearby became more hushed, and there were no cars on the road. I looked down, and the sylveon looked up at me, expressionless. He did not giggle, laugh—not even a little smile.

"I'm…I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Sandra," Tania quickly said. "I didn't mean…"

"No, no," I corrected her, still looking down. "It's not you, it's not you. It's something else."

"What's the matter, dear? You seem out of it."

I didn't reply. "Mmmm…" the sylveon replied instead, in his usual high-pitched voice.

"Can…can I ask you something, erm…Tania?" I finally said.

"Why, sure sweetheart."

"You've been here in Alola a long time."

"Why, yes, I have."

"What does it mean to love a pokémon?" I asked.

"The same thing as loving a human," Tania immediately replied. "To feel warm and safe when they're next to you. To just feel that spark for them every time you see them smile, giggle, do the silliest little thing."

"Mmmm…" the sylveon's eyes widened.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Do you love Sandra?_

Maybe I do. The old lady—not the lady, the old lady—she talked about love. And what she said makes sense to me.

_But the lady hurts you._

I know. But I still love the lady.

_Do you think the lady takes advantage of your kindness?_

I don't really understand the question.

_Do you think the lady hurts you because you know you will forgive her?_

I don't know. I don't think so. She sits and watches me for a long time, like when I ate that pecha berry. She carried me one whole night. She did a lot of things for me. I guess _I_ hurt her in that way. The lady wants to love me. I think she tries. Even if she doesn't love me, she tries to.

* * *

**Christine**

I began perusing the selection of pokémon in the catalog. They were mostly photographs of the pokémon, all nude, posed in seductive poses which generally exposed their genitals, male or female. While most of the visitors to the PokéPalace were men, women were also customers, and the absence of empirical data next to the catalog photos appealed to both the sympathetic emotions of females and to the lust of men.

"Have you decided what you want, miss?" The manager asked me, every five minutes or so. He was rather anxious, and wished for me to decide quickly.

"Erm…not yet," I said.

When the manager walked away, I picked up my cell phone, and pressed a special "push to talk" button that was installed that morning.

"Can you hear me?" I said over the phone.

"Yes, Agent Christine," the phone said. "We received that conversation loud and clear." I subconsciously adjusted the position of the pendant around my neck, which contained a concealed microphone.

"Can you see everything?" I added. Adjusting the camera in my glasses, I flipped through the catalog very slowly. Using this footage, we would be able to create a substantial catalog of pokémon victims, which eased our search when the raid was conducted.

There was one pokémon on the third laminated page that I noticed. It was a primarina. Although it was male, its bright blue hair and long eyelashes prominently displayed in the photo gave him a very feminine appearance. I examined the eyes in the photo closely. They were a deep liquid brown (not the usual aquamarine) and seemed out of place with the rest of his brightly colored body.

In the featured photo the primarina lay nude on rumpled bed sheets, belly up, his massive erection exposed, and he was smiling seductively at the camera. I kept looking back to the pokémon's eyes in the photo. There was something that I did not understand about them. Something about them that made them…so captivating.

I found myself staring at the photo. Frightened by myself, I quickly shut the catalog so the cover was showing: "PokePorn catalog: Our selection for your personal enjoyment". I tried not to look at the title either.

I listened to the lobby to distract me. It was only me and the manager in the room, and he was working quietly at his desk. My cell phone was quiet. I was listening to silence.

It was then that I realized that I was truly alone in this mission—at least in essence. There wasn't the deep cushion of police bureaucracy behind me. It would be me, face to face with the vice, the pain, the suffering. And I just had to swallow it all and hope it wouldn't digest into my body and become nourishment.

"Have you decided, miss?" the manager (Mr. Beverly) walked up to me again.

"Yes, I would like this one," I said, pointing to the picture on page 3.

"The male primarina? Ok. P51000, up front. 2 hours. Extensions are P20000 per hour, order on the phone," he said, speaking very concisely. "It's that room,"—he pointed—"ground floor."

Everything was quiet. I was walking, truly by myself, to the room. I opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be conitnued...hope you enjoyed it! What do think/want to happen next? Your feedback and comments are appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading up to this far! This chapter is a bit longer, because I wanted to tie up a few loose ends. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.

**Sandra**

“We’re back!” I heard the door slam, signaling that Amis and my husband had returned, from after-school activities and work respectively.

“Hey Amis! How’s everything?” I went to hug my son. “Hi dear,” I said to my husband.

“It’s nice to see you finally showing some affection to Amis,” my husband replied, rather coldly. Refusing to look me in the eye, he hung up the blazer slung on his shoulder on the coat rack.

“What’re you saying?”

“Come off it already, Sandy. You’ve been seeing him…whoever he is, I don’t have a fucking clue. You’re never been at home…until tonight.”

“That…that’s not true!” I usually snuck out around 10pm, returning at 2 or 3am.

“Well, something’s going on, and if you a’int gonna tell me, you bet your damn life I’ll find out myself,” my husband said, pointing at me. “But…never mind now. Now I have you…”—he yanked me closer with his cold hands. “Why don’t we have some fun tonight? Just the two of us?” he whispered so Amis couldn’t hear. I tried not to look into his eyes as he stared at me…like a predator.

My husband was more of an animal than the sylveon ever was.

The animal loosened his grip on me. “Ah, c’mon Sandy, what’s with that glazed look? It’s him, isn’t it? The mystery man. What is he, younger, more charming, richer?”

“He’s not rich,” I quickly replied, briefly glancing at the sylveon, who sat quietly watching our conversation. “But he has…other unique qualities.”

My husband grabbed my wrist again and pulled my body towards him. “Oh, so you admit it! He _does_ exist! And you _have_ been seeing him!” He forced my head to face him, a film of sweat covering the ragged stubble on his face.

Meanwhile, the sylveon stood obediently, staring at my agony…his creamy white fur as soft and silky as ever.

“Yes, but…”—I tried to come up with a lie—“…but I swear, it won’t happen again.”

He glared deep into my eyes. “You promise?”

I nodded to his question.

My husband’s stare had almost become unfamiliar to me after seeing the sylveon for so long—partly because I also hadn’t looked my husband in the eye in the latter part of our marriage. My husband’s eyes were a dull, soil-colored brown: an absolutely disgusting color. Its dark depths shocked me in contrast to the liquid blue pokémon eyes I had grown so used to.

I watched as my hand swept across his shoulder and down his arm. Unlike the sylveon, my husband’s fur was ragged and coarse throughout. Although his body was warm from walking outside in the heat, his human touch made my heart…cold and icy. That was the flaw with humans…perhaps myself included.

I turned to look at the sylveon, still sitting there, obediently waiting for his turn. The sylveon I had never given a name to. I couldn’t help it if I was flawed…I was a human, not a pokémon. I could never forgive myself for being the flawed version of a passionate lover. I was never good enough for him.

Our son’s voice cut the moment short. “Mommy, who’s this?” Amis walked up to me, dragging the sylveon along by his ribbons.

“MMMM…!!!” He screamed as he followed Amis. I made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have let the sylveon out in front of unfamiliar people.

My husband slowly loosened his grip around me. “That…that’s a pokémon,” I said, nervously glancing at my husband. In retrospect…he didn’t suspect a thing. “Mommy found him. Yeah. I found him.”

“Why does he have ribbons?” Amis asked.

“I…I dunno, Amis.” I grew more nervous as Amis squeezed a ribbon in his right hand very tightly. I didn’t want the sylveon to become another cyndaquil…dead cyndaquil. I grabbed Amis’ shoulders and gently moved him away from the pokémon.

“Now, Mommy’s really busy, and you need to help Mommy, okay? But first, how ‘bout you go with Daddy and take a nice bath, hmm?” I said. He nodded.

After both human males were safely out of sight, I picked up the sylveon and brought him outside the door—it was already night, and the moon was shining brightly in the evening sky. He seemed confused as I started to close the door.

“Mmmm…?” He asked curiously.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay. You can go if you want,” I said regretfully. “You…you can’t stay here.” I began to close the door.

The sylveon tried to charge at the door, making it swing open. “EEEE!” It screamed, in its shrill, high-pitched anger that no one could ever really take that seriously.

“No, you can’t come in here, no!”

“EEEE…!” Without warning he leapt into my arms. I didn’t know he could jump that high. As my arms came in contact with his warm body, his energy flowed into me without effort—no doubt it was the celestial energy he had harnessed from the moonlight.

His flawless-white fur nuzzled deep into my own flawed human skin. Words could never describe such a love as ours. Nor could a name; a pointless little name like “Tommy” or “Felix”. There is nothing like loving a pokémon.

And I hope with all my heart that you shall have to courage to join me and the heart of the Alolan spirit of human-pokémon companionship; as I sit here in jail…persecuted for my harmless beliefs.

After the sylveon had calmed down, I put him down gently at the doorstep. “You can stay outside here, and wait for me. When my husband and son are asleep, I’ll meet you back here. You understand?”

He smiled and nodded. “Mmmm-mmm!”

I shut the door, condemning myself to my very own imprisonment.

When I peeked out of the window a minute after, he was still standing outside, waiting for me. If only he could have waited forever—but that would be too much of a cliché.

“Mommy, I have a question,” Amis said when he finished washing up. “Can that pokémon’s ribbons actually grab things like hands?”

“That pokémon?” I asked.

“Yeah, the one you had just now.”

“Yeah, it can grab things with its ribbons. I’ve seen it done.” The last time was when he picked up my clothes and started ripping them apart.

“That’s cool. What else can that pokémon do?”

“Well…he can take the power of the moon,” I reasoned to myself. “He uses it to blast this massive pink aura at any pokémon.”

“I never saw pokémon like that in the jungle,” he said.

“His kind live in the city, so they’re pretty rare in Alola. The one I found wasn’t from the jungle.”

“Oh. I see. Wow. I didn’t know there were powerful pokémon like that. The moon. Wow. That’s awesome.” His eyes turned to me. “Pokémon are so cool. Mommy, I wanna go back to the jungle again, maybe I’ll find another cool friend,” he said, a smile unlike any I had seen recently across his face.

“Of…of course you can go,” I said. “You wanna go tomorrow morning?”

“Sure!”

My husband walked in at that precise moment. He saw Amis smiling with excitement. And I was smiling too.

“I’m sorry, Sandra,” my husband conceded. “I’m sorry for everything. Let’s…let’s start again,” he offered tearfully.

I smiled and nodded back to him—albeit trembling. Even his human smile was terrifying for me.

I must’ve smiled for too long. Because when I went back outside later that night to meet the sylveon, he was gone.

* * *

**Christine**

I did not have sex with Jan until we were married. We both had dated prior to meeting each other, and had significant sexual contact with those previous persons. I learned far more about my dear partner through long moonlit walks, quiet dinners, and little laughs than I ever did through sexual intercourse. It wasn’t that we didn’t enjoy it. Rather, it didn’t take our relationship any further than it already was.

So it was no surprise to me that the session with the primarina only left me more confused about the state of the PokéPalace. He was the first to penetrate me—I did not compel him in any way. The primarina smiled during the entire session. He would sing songs for me, in his species’ characteristic operatic voice. The tunes he sang were high-pitched, but dark and somber in tone, something which left my stomach uneasy while I felt an instinct of pleasure below.

“Ahh…ahh-ahh-ahhhh…” he would sing. I did not think he was singing for me, rather he was singing for himself. Such songs were his instincts, an impulse that could not be restrained. Unlike pokémon, however, I as a human felt uneasy with my instincts. What made love more than a subtle tingling feeling in one little part of your body?

I remember a time when Jan sang a lot—to herself, mostly. She was in great pain after a mountain biking accident near Mt. Silver, and she had to be airlifted by helicopter to the hospital. She suffered a powerful blow to the head, so strong that even the bike helmet did not save her.

For much of the time she was in the hospital, Jan could not recognize me or Edison, and she only knew a few details about herself. She was silent most of the time, and even as she regained her memory she talked to me in simple phrases.

The main thing Jan would always tell me about, when she did regain her speech, was the bad dream she kept having. It was more like a recollection of the accident as it happened: she was biking down the mountain at a high speed, when she overshot a curve in the trail and hit the face of the rocky cliff.

That day at Mt. Silver, Jan had gone ahead of me and Edison on the trail. After she fell, it was Edison’s eevee, Solomon, that popped out of its pokeball and ran up to Jan, way before we even saw her. Solomon silently circled his master’s mother, his eyes stricken with grief.

Jan remembered the eevee coming up to her. As her memory was damaged and she was barely conscious, she thought the feeling of itchy fur brushing against her body as a mere annoyance, its meek vocalizations a cackle of evil laughter.

But all this time, Solomon was worried for Jan. And Edison and I were even more worried. The thought of her negligence of her family’s sympathy was what made it a nightmare for Jan.

Every time Jan would doze off unexpectedly on the hospital bed, she would suffer from the same bad dream. She would wake up, her body shuddering and flailing hysterically, her body covered in a cold sweat. I would hold her hand tightly, trying to give her a hint of warmth. After her body relaxed a little, she wouldn’t even dare to blink, because she feared she would fall asleep. I tried to calm her down, but nothing seemed to calm her down more than when she just sang to herself.

That was what Jan did while she was in the hospital. She would sing. And sing. When her memory was fuzzier than usual and she took some time to remember who Christine and Edison were, she would sing to herself. When the doctor came to give her a painful injection, she would sing as they inserted the needle. She would sing so loud, sometimes the patients next to her would complain.

But she didn’t care. Singing was as necessary to her sanity as food, water, and shelter. Without her song, I am convinced that Jan could never have made a full recovery.

My back pinned flat on the mattress, I stared into the primarina’s eyes as my climax neared. The session lasted for 13 minutes, so I counted. For those 13 minutes, the primarina sang louder and louder in a gradual crescendo, the melodies more varied, the wailing more pronounced. He was straining his voice—over the last two minutes, I could hear the hints of a voice crack.

His movements became more and more haphazard near the end, his flippers flailing in all directions, onto the bedsheets, and sometimes within inches of my own flesh. Sometimes his flipper would barely brush past my arm, and it would sting like a beedrill—I could only imagine how much pain it would be full force.

I assumed it was all from the heat of the moment, but something didn’t make sense to me. As his flippers moved haphazardly, his deep brown eyes remained fixed and motionless as the rest of his body was shuddering and flailing: a dispassionate, frigid gaze countered by impassioned, hot movements.

When we finished, and I felt his abundant semen shoot into me, he stopped singing and his body stopped flailing. But his cold brown eyes still never ceased to stare at me. For the entire 13 minutes, he did not blink. I looked at him curiously, but this long staring session did not answer my questions.

I sat up in the bed and took a deep breath. Thinking about Jan’s bike accident, I wonder if the primarina was feeling the same thing too. Except his bad dream wasn’t a dream; it was his entire life.

The end of the session left my soul raw. Bleary-eyed and confused, I was compelled to quickly dress and leave, without looking back. But somehow I kept looking back at the primarina, at his now-flaccid penis. There was something about the pokémon where that I did not fully understand, and would not ever fully understand by being no more than a customer.

I had decided what to do. I did not inform International Police HQ of my decision, as Looker advised. After I was dressed, I walked up to the manager (Mr. Beverly), who was at his desk working on what appeared to be a spreadsheet. It piqued my interest most strongly, but I dared not stare at his screen for too long.

“Are you finished?” he asked, not looking up from his screen. “You’ve already paid, you can go.”

I stayed, standing beside his desk. “That primarina…” I said. “The male one. I have some questions about him.”

He ignored me.

“Why are his eyes brown?” I asked. “I’ve never seen one with brown eyes before.”

Still he ignored me.

I continued asking after questions: how much did he weigh, how long have you had him, how old is he, where is he from, and so on.

After a few minutes of this, Mr. Beverly slammed his hands on the keyboard, and finally looked up at me. “All right. What d’ya want, lady?”

“I want a job,” I said in a firmer voice.

“I…I can’t,” he said, trying to keep his anger under control. I was prepared to fight back. “Now would you _please_ leave!?”

“Listen to me,” I said, leaning towards him. “I didn’t think I would find a place like this. You don’t know what hell I’ve been through to find you.” I pulled up a chair.

“Let me tell you the truth,” I lied. “I’m from Johto, and up there they don’t like their trainers fooling around with their pokémon. Two months ago, I got caught having sex with my pokémon. I jumped bail and left the region. I didn’t know where to go so they wouldn’t find me.

“That’s when I heard about how your attitude towards pokémon is a lot more liberal here in Alola. Please, I’ve been roaming around the city, sleeping in the streets. Anything, any job’s better than nothing.”

Mr. Beverly sighed. I knew a forceful voice would work on him. He wasn’t accustomed to a woman calling the shots. He snorted. “Fine. You got a job. I can give you P700 an hour, but that’s all I can afford.”

“I’ll take P500,” I suggested to him. “I really need this job.”

He didn’t argue, just chuckled at me like I was some fool. “Done. Come here tomorrow afternoon, 5pm. I’ll fill you in on your tasks then. Your name?”

“Christine.”

“Last name?”

“I prefer not to say. Johto might’ve sent the International Police to track me down.”

“Fine. And…erm…Christine?”

“Yeah?” I turned back as I was walking out the door.

“Don’t expect it to be a cakewalk,” he said with a smug grin.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Can you recall any other humans that you may have seen at the brothel?_

Erm…I’m not sure.

_Anyone other than your clients, Master, and the two men?_

Oh, yeah. Yeah, there were some other people. But I didn’t really remember them. I hate those humans. They are the ones that really hurt me.

_By “those humans”, what do you mean?_

I don’t know their faces, I haven’t heard their voices either. They’re the same people that looked at me when I was born.

_You mean, when you were in the dark room and the light came on?_

Yeah, exactly, when I was born. You know what I’m talking about. The time when the people touched me and took pictures of me. Don’t you get it!?

_Alright, alright, don’t get mad._

I’m tired, I’m really tired. And I’m getting sick of candy. Can we take a break?

_Just a little more, then we can rest. Now, try to tell me more about these people._

The people who messed with me when I was born, they’re the same people I’m talking about now. Every morning, these people go up to my room and give me food. Bad food.

_What kind of food?_

I don’t know. [pause] Something in a bowl…and something hard. It’s disgusting. That’s why I hate those people. Sometimes they also look at me and touch me, just like they did when I was born. Then they use this thing [points to interviewer’s pencil] and make marks on this thing [points to interviewer’s question sheet].

_Oh, so they write stuff down._

Is that what it’s called? “Write stuff down”? Oh, okay. Yeah. So sometimes they look at me and write stuff down me. They don’t smile at me. They don’t give me candy. And if I try to fight back, they hurt me with a really high sound. I told you before, I have sensitive ears so it hurts a lot.

_I would imagine you would have remembered something like that._

No. Those are bad memories. Some of the bad memories I can’t help but remember, but the really bad stuff I try to forget. Sometimes I wake up thinking that it didn’t even happen. [weak giggle] You know, there was this other pokémon that was in the building. He was a male, but always got mistaken for a female, just like me.

_Are you talking about the male primarina that we took in?_

Yes, that’s it. The problem with him is that he can’t forget his bad memories. He tried to, but he can’t. So he goes all crazy because the memories keep coming back and haunting him. That’s why he sings, to calm himself down.

But he lost his voice a few days before your people came to our building to take us away. So he went crazy. He couldn’t sing, so he just screamed and hit things a lot. Hit the bed. Hit the wall. Hit himself. I tried calming him down with my disarming voice, but that just made him feel worse because he couldn’t sing anymore. And my baby doll eyes and draining kiss are only temporary. We weren’t together very often, we had a lot of clients and Master always tries to keep us all apart.

But anyway, that’s why sometimes it’s really nice to forget things. To forget the past. To forget what words mean. You know, I already forgot those words you just taught me, what were they?

_“Write stuff down”?_

Yeah, what does that mean? Is it some type of candy or something? I don’t know. I’m tired. I wanna sleep. Good night.

* * *

**Christine**

“If they’re asleep when you go in, you wake their little pokémon asses up,” Mr. Beverly said, briefing me on the particulars of my job the next morning. “It’s bad for business.”

We were inside a windowless basement room, only accessible to the staff of the PokéPalace. Judging from the bare concrete and examination table, this was no doubt the place the sylveon described “being born in”.

Mr. Beverly reached for something on the counter. “You feed them this, once a day. 1 part flour to 2 parts water. Exact amounts depend on the weight of the pokémon. And one of the tablets per meal, also. Ya hear me?”

“Yeah, of course I can,” I said, quite obstinately now that I look back.

“Okay. This is Monica,” he said, introducing me to the plainly-dressed woman standing in the room. “If you have any questions, ask her.” And with that, Mr. Beverly left the room.

“Take no notice of him, he’s just cranky,” Monica said. “I…I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Christine.” We shook hands. She looked much like a native Alolan; lightly tanned skin, dark wavy hair, and a bright, wide smile.

“Oh, erm…I see, Christine, that’s a nice name.” Monica interchanged between looking at me sheepishly and looking at the floor. “Erm…you, you from around here?”

“Nah, I came from Johto. Got caught having sex with my pokémon. An eevee. I…I called him Solomon. Oh, he was so sweet. Took care of me when I was sick. Held my hand when I had nightmares,” I said, picking some stuff from Jan’s biking accident. “So that’s why I came here to Alola. But from what I hear, the police is still tracking me down, y’know.”

Yes, very much so, I thought. In fact, they were listening to everything that was going on, thanks to the hidden microphone which I now concealed behind a belt loop in my jeans. 

I had done away with the glasses camera; it was getting too heavy to wear, and Looker said it wasn’t necessary. Actually, it was I who had insisted on wearing it, against Looker’s advice. “No amount of equipment can shield you in undercover work,” he advised. “In fact, it’ll increase the risk of you getting your cover blown. If I were you, I wouldn’t wear any wire.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here,” Monica said to me. “You’re…you’re very pretty, erm…Christine. Made me wonder why you even ended up working in a place like this.

“Me…I didn’t get in trouble with the law, per se. But my partner threw me out. She doesn’t understand pokémon like we do. She’s from the mainland, Sinnoh, y’know.”

“‘She’?”

Monica stopped what she was doing. “Yeah, that’s right, I was married to a she. You got a problem with that?”

“No, no, not at all,” I quickly brushed it off. We were working on preparing food for the pokémon. I weighed out portions of wheat flour, amounts which varied depending on the weight of the pokémon. For example, the sylveon was fed about 140 grams of flour each day, mixed with about 500mL of water.

In response to my findings, our experts found that this calorie amount was adequate for the pokémon. Combined with the multivitamin, the pokémon would have received adequate nourishment to survive for an extended period of time. However, flour and water is not palatable for humans and pokémon alike, and from what I saw while undercover, many pokémon did not finish their food. Which makes the so-called experts’ argument moot.

“What’s that?” I asked Monica at some point.

Monica paused for a moment. “Oh…sometimes I sneak in some cut berries inside the flour mush for them. You can’t see it if you submerge it in there. Don’t tell Mr. Beverly about this, okay?”

“Of course not,” I said as I began chopping up some pecha berries myself. Monica smiled back at me—a little longer than she should have, now I think about it.

“C’mon, follow me,” Monica said eagerly as we picked up our flour bowls and multivitamin tablets and loaded them onto trays. “I’ll show you how to send food.”

In my mind, I doubted the difficulty of my job, in spite of Mr. Beverly’s cautionary words. We were not expected to feed them, just drop the food off. What could be so difficult about it?

“Alright, let’s start here,” Monica said at the top floor of the building. “Behind this door is our male sylveon. Mind you, it’s a bit jumpy today.”

“Why’s that?”

“It ran away from here a few nights ago. Went straight out of an open window. We have no idea how it could’ve happened. But eventually, Mr. Beverly found it and returned it here last night.”

“Found it?” I probed, perhaps more than I should have. But I took advantage over Monica’s slight crush on me to get more information.

“Well, I’m not too sure on the details…”—she said, with intermittent eye contact—“…but from what I heard, it was standing somewhere near the beach at Hau’oli. The pokémon protested Mr. Beverly taking it away, it shouted at him and tried to attack him. Idiot. So Mr. Beverly used the high-pitched whistle and a pokeball and it was brought back.

“Anyway, time to give the sylveon his food. Just watch me, for when they get jumpy like this: open the door, drop the bowl, close the door, and go.”

The time from when Monica opened the door, dropped the bowl and the multivitamin, and shut the door was about 3 seconds. I admired her deft skill and her calmness doing this. For the three seconds the door was open, I saw the sylveon poking his head out, his ribbons in an offensive position. And for three seconds, he screamed at the top of his lungs: “AAARRGHH!!! AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!”, as if prepared to maul us to death. His eyes were the typical bright blue that is seen in the literature, but I could swear in the three seconds that I saw him, there was a tinge of dark brown in that beautiful blue.

“Christine?”

“Christine? Hello…?”

I was deep in thought. “Oh, I’m sorry…Monica. Let’s go.”

“Let’s head to the next door, downstairs. Here, try this serperior over here.”

I opened the door cautiously, before calming down a little. “It’s…it’s asleep, see. All curled up.”

“Y’know what Mr. Beverly said, wake them up!” Monica pleaded, dropping down the bowl of gruel and standing behind the safety of the doorstep. “Here, catch…”—she threw something to me—“…blow this in its ear. The whistle makes a very high pitch sound that only the pokémon can hear, and it’ll wake up.”

“No, no, hold on. I wanna take a look.” I noticed reddish stripes on the middle belly of the serperior, arranged in an orderly chevron pattern. I figured it was just like the primarina’s brown eyes; a mere idiosyncracy of appearance.

But looking closely, I noticed they were scars: places where cuts had healed. It was like someone pressed something similar to a cookie cutter on the pokémon to injure him…but an orderly pattern was used so that it looked more like a body decoration than just abuse.

“Where did these cuts come from?” I asked Monica, gently touching them with my fingers.

“I dunno. That pokémon is popular, but its attacks are really powerful. If it’s mad, it’ll lash out on you pretty bad. Mr. Beverly sometimes has to put it in its place.”

“So he uses like a…cookie cutter thing to make these cuts…!?”

I felt a slight movement.

Monica panicked. “Oh shit, it’s gonna wake up! It hates to see us! Get out! Now!”

“SSSS…!” I heard, the high-pitched hiss making by body cringe in fear. His furious eyes were set on me. I ran.

By the time I ran to the door, which took about 2 seconds, it was too late. I had several cuts from vine whip on my arms for the rest of the day.

“That’s what happens when you get too friendly with them,” Monica said. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, now. Now try this primarina on the ground floor. And don’t do anything stupid this time.” I would say she had gotten over her little crush on me. Any hint of a suggestive smile had been wiped clean from her face. But then again, in a job like this I guess it took a lot of effort to get her to crack a smile. And that I had myself (and my looks?) to congratulate for.

The primarina’s voice was very hoarse today. Unlike the night I was with him as a customer, he could barely sing out a grieving tune to assuage his fears. I managed to drop the food before the hysterical movements of his flippers threatened to hit me with full force.

I was quite shaken by experience; not so much by the injuries, but by the pokémon’s demeanor. “The serperior, the primarina, the sylveon. Why’re they so mad at us? Do they get this mad at clients?”

“No, they don’t lash out at clients because they don’t bring them disgusting food. They hate us,” Monica admitted. “We bring them disgusting food, so they associate us with punishment. It’s the same thing with Mr. Beverly. You think you have it rough, the pokémon hate Mr. Beverly even more.”

“It just confuses me,” I admitted to Monica. “Why don’t we feed the pokémon a more comprehensive diet? Fresh fruit and vegetables can’t be that expensive.”

Monica sighed. “I know I have a soft spot for them, sneaking some cut berries in their food. But the real reason we’re not supposed to feed them well is for their own good. You can’t get them _too_ comfortable. They’ll rave about the free food—pokémon always love it when they can get their paws on a good meal.

“Then they’ll find a way to communicate this with their pokémon friends—they always do, no matter how hard you try to isolate them—and tell them how nice it is here inside the brothel. Can you imagine that? It would be chaos. Wild pokémon, trainer-owned pokémon, would all come rushing through here. Pokémon of substandard beauty.”

Pokémon of “substandard beauty”. What could ever be more monstrous of a proposition?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued. I promise, the raid will happen sometime in the next chapter, I just have gotten kind of carried away...your feedback is always appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Important: If you are reading on AO3, you are reading the unedited version. An edited version with slightly different content but identical plot is also published on FFN. Please use your discretion.)

**Sylveon**

_How did the Master find you?_

He went outside in the streets, looking for me.

_Why did the lady leave you alone?_

She said she had to go home and take care of her son.

_What happened when the Master found you?_

He said "Come back home already, you little faggot." I asked him what is "home", I didn't know that word. Of course, he didn't understand what I was saying.

He charged towards me, he stepped on my ribbons, it hurt, he did some other things, he sucked me up into that pokeball thing. It was all so fast. Almost so fast that it doesn't seem important.

_Important? What do you mean?_

Like, it's so undramatic. You're taken like that, then trapped behind a red screen, and it just happened. No words, no goodbyes, no tears. I almost wish I could cry.

_Why do you wish you could cry?_

Because she deserves my tears.

* * *

**Sandra**

I cried in my room the night the sylveon had disappeared. I took it at first as an omen; that by some shifting in the stars and the moon—oh, the moon. I stared out at the moon. I wondered if at this moment, the sylveon was soaking the power from the bright rock in the sky into his body. It made me stare at the moon outside my room for hours and hours.

But I knew we could never share more than the same moon. It was all how it was meant to be. It was supposed to be this way, after all: Amis was happier, my husband and I patched things up somewhat, and I had a few more hours of sleep every night, not going to visit the PokéPalace.

But how could it be that I was  _supposed_ to hurt so much? Was pain my just deserts for all the joyously sinful days with him? The punishment for the flaws and vice of humanity?

As I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, images appeared, back dropped by a veil of darkness. The first was the sylveon. Then I saw the moon, its brilliant glow in the dull night, beckoning me, beckoning me to escape the darkness that it was surrounded by, that enveloped my own body. But it was hopeless. I could never reach the moon. Then I saw Amis' rejuvenated smile. Then I saw my husband, smiling. Then I saw shredded clothes, ripping all the other thoughts away.

Then I saw bright pink that washed all the images away. I fell asleep.

* * *

**Christine**

"Nice work, Agent Christine." My shift had ended, and I left the PokéPalace at around 7am on my first day of work. Returning to the International Police building, the staff there silently greeted me (so as not to arouse suspicion), and I removed the wires in my clothing.

"That was not bad, for a first time undercover job," Looker said to me.

"Thanks," I said, wholeheartedly accepting Looker's modest praise. The screams of the pokémon still lingered in my mind, but not as much as they did when I heard them through earphones. Somehow, experiencing the brothel firsthand made it more real to me, more real such that it was there, right in front of my face, as opposed to down below in the dark bellows of crime hell. And that made it less frightening for me.

"Oh, Christine, just to let you know…ah, I shouldn't say," Looker quickly silenced himself. His long stay at Alola had softened him: his poker face was wearing thin, and was more prone to revealing secrets to me: like that the raid was to be conducted that very night. Nothing stood still in the relentless heat and humidity.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_How did Mr. Beverly punish you?_

Master didn't beat me. He used the high-pitched whistle for ten minutes. He tied me up so that I couldn't cover my ears. I screamed, but he didn't hear me because he covered my mouth with tape also. Then he shouted at me.

"You unfaithful piece of shit!"

"You little runaway faggot!"

"Well, what're you staring at me for!? Well!? Talk to me! Go! Move! Move like the obedient little pokémon you're supposed to be! What? You can't talk? You can't move? WELL WHOSE FUCKING FAULT IS IT!?"

_How did you deal with it?_

The only thing that gave me hope was the lady. I knew the lady would be there for me. She always is. Until that point, I'd never had that feeling before. Hope. I know what it is, but I hadn't felt it before. When you know there's someone rooting for you, suddenly even the worst torture becomes less painful.

* * *

**Christine**

After taking a nap in my room (I vacated my apartment and stayed in a secretly monitored building near the headquarters, for my own safety), I took a shower, ate lunch with Looker and all the other agents that would conduct the raid, made a toast (at the pressure of my colleagues, "to the safety of the world"), and returned to my room early.

When Looker asked why I was feeling so down, I told him I knew the reason why I was feeling down, but I couldn't explain it.

* * *

**Sandra**

I left home immediately after I woke up, at 2pm. I wasn't one to dash right out of bed, especially without brushing my teeth, eating breakfast, or changing out of my think white silk nightdress. My legs moved like bounding springs, moving my body like a puppet down the street.

It was bright and sunny that day, and after just waking up all I could see was light. Light. Light. That fucking light! I squinted as I automatically trudged down the streets. I knew deep inside that wherever my legs were driving me, I would end up in a building that was dark, with the warm moon welcoming me inside and shining over me. The moon. The moon. That bright, lovely, soft, furry, pink and blue moon.

I heard voices for a very long time while I was walking in the street. Cuss words. Shouts of concern. Sparse greetings. They were so loud, I thought their words would hit me, smack me clean in the face. My shoulder jerked and I suddenly stopped.

"Ouch! Oh, I'm so sorry I bumped into you!" I heard a familiar voice.

"Tania," I addressed her. "Sorry. Gotta go."

She stopped me with her arm, only gently touching me but stopping me in my tracks. Her wise eyes stared at me. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

The lines on her face frightened me. Something about the heaviness of age that set on me like a falling sun. The light. The light. Must go away. Must get to the night. Once the night sets in and the moon rises up, fucks me, then comes again, fucks me, then comes again—everything will be fine. There will be no more light. The light will end. But wasn't the daylight bound to end? Wouldn't it be night eventually? Why was I rushing into the night?

"What's the rush?" Tania repeated.

I didn't answer her question and walked off.

* * *

**Christine**

I got ready for my shift that evening at 5pm. Looker confirmed my hunch: the raid was tonight, confirmed. Thirty International Police agents with 20 trained electric pokémon were at the ready. Looker would not reveal the exact time they would arrive.

"We'll be right there before you know it," he said with a smile.

I nodded my head softly. Looker asked me what was the matter.

I lost my focus packing my things into my backpack. I looked away from him. "I'm taking a 6-month leave of absence after this case closes," I told him.

"Sure," Looker said. "In practice, you're your own boss. You're in control."

"Thank you," I finally spoke. Something about what Looker said made me feel so much stronger. I put the last few things in my bag and headed out to the PokéPalace.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Are you mad at the lady?_

No, not anymore. I was mad at first, especially when Master was hurting me. When she left me there outside her house, she promised that no one would take me! She promised! And then Master comes take me away that night and she wasn't there! Even if she couldn't save me, she wasn't even there to say goodbye! But when the lady came looking for me and found me, I wasn't mad at her anymore. She had kept her promise.

_But the lady never promised to protect you. She just said to wait outside, isn't that right?_

That's what she said, yeah. But you could see her promise. In her eyes. I dunno. It's the same feeling I get when I funnel energy from the moon. It doesn't really matter precisely where it is, precisely what it is. It's just there.

_What else can you see in the lady's eyes?_

She's young, like me.

_She's 45._

Really? I always got the feeling she was younger than that. She acts young. She's a bit crazy. She's boring on the outside, but colorful on the inside. I'm the reverse of that. And having worked at the building for so long, I'm sick of what's on the outside; I value what's on the inside a lot more.

You know, sometimes when I eat the boring food Master and his people give me, I imagine the lady and all her pretty colors…and life is exciting again.

_What do you think the lady sees in your eyes?_

A mate.

* * *

**Christine**

"Alright, we've just got one more thing to do," Monica said as we approached the door of the primarina's room. "He's still not well…"—she pointed to the door—"…and we've gotta checkup on him. Maybe sedate him if he's too crazy."

"Of course," I smiled lightly, although inside my stomach churned. I wasn't sure if I was scared about the impending raid, though; the thought of it would make me feel comfortable.

"Why don't you open the door, then? I've got the equipment," she said, holding the high-pitched whistle, emergency sedative, and stethoscope."

I stopped when my hand gripped the doorknob. I remember my hand was trembling. I breathed deeply and tried to shrug it off, but it didn't help. Monica asked me what was wrong. I responded blandly, and when she pressed further, I said "Why don't you open the door."

* * *

**Sandra**

"Where is he!?" my mouth said when I bursted through the entrance of the PokéPalace. My head jerked around, looking for the manager.

"What d'you want, lady?"

"S…s…" I managed.

"Serperior? You want the serperior?"

"No!" I blurted out. I was incensed by his assumption. I wanted "the s…syvleon," I said. "Now. Now."

The manager sighed, and held his hand out. "Well?"

"Y…you mean he's here?"

"Yeah. The little faggot ran away, but it's back now. So  _pay_."

I fumbled under my clothes, lifting my dress up looking for cash, until I realized I had none. When I saw the manager staring at me, I realized that I wasn't wearing my usual outfit.

"I…I don't have money."

"Then leave."

"H…hold on, I'll…I'll find some cash." I paced fervidly about the room. The truth was, there wasn't any cash I could get. The only money I had was at home, and that was too far away.

I stopped pacing. "Please…please…now," I groveled. I think I fell to my knees. It was pathetic.  _You fucking sylveon! Is this what you want?_  I thought to myself.  _For me to grovel to a goddamn balding idiot for you?_

_All for you and your…your little smiling face and big blue eyes and you saying "Mmmm…!" and smiling and laughing and fucking and fucking and fucking and fucking—no. I could never leave that massive—that sylveon—behind. No…no…I could never leave this place. Not when you are here, you little sylveon with no name._

"Come back tomorrow," the manager said to me. "What's the rush? We'll be here tomorrow." He was wrong, but in his defense he could have never known.

"J…just lemme see him for free this time," I pleaded to him.

"Fine," he conceded. "But you owe me extra money next time."

His whole business would be ruined in a few hours, and all he could care about was one little session with the sylveon.

* * *

**Christine**

"I don't wanna open the door," I repeated, my voice trembling. That was the weakest I ever felt as an International police Agent. I couldn't explain it if I tried; it was as if all the power had been sapped out of me. "Could you open it for me?"

Monica nodded. She put her hand over mine, but then paused. She asked, with a smile, "Listen…before that…lemme say something. I…and…we…erm." She stopped. She withdrew her hand and began avoiding eye contact with me. "I was…wondering. If. We…maybe we can go out sometime. If…if that's okay with you. Are…are you…?"

I nodded.

"Heh. I could've guessed." Of course, she did not guess that I was married with a son.

"But about going out, erm…I dunno," I said, scratching my head, letting a little smirk leak out. "I think it'll be rather inconvenient for the next few days and onward," I said, alluding to the raid. I subconsciously looked around the walls of the narrow hallway.

"Oh, you're busy? Well, maybe after work tonight. We could go for breakfast or lunch or something."

"Sure, I'd like that," I lied.

A woman walked past us in the hallway, dressed in a thin silk nightgown, her arms bunched up tightly and biting her lip nervously. That was Sandra Macintosh.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_What did you and the lady do the night of the raid?_

At first, we sat on the bed and hugged each other. Things were…different that night.

_Why is that?_

I was already weak that night because it was the new moon; Master had picked the worst time to punish me. The lady wasn't wearing her usual clothes, and her head fur was all over the place. And she didn't get mad at me when I chewed up her money paper.

_What happened after?_

We made love. [smiles]

_So you fucked?_

No, silly! [giggles] We made love! I already told you that that was different. I fuck my clients. I make love to my mates.

* * *

**Sandra**

Never did I take a new moon as such a bad omen. The sylveon was weak and tired, and I could see faint traces of strap marks where he may have been tied up.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I'm sorry I abandoned you." It was my fault he was hurt. I might as well have tied the rope with my own hands.

The air conditioner was down. This combined with the sylveon's warm aura left me in an unpleasant hot, flushed sweat. I grasped the collar of my nightdress while the sylveon stared.

"Mmmm…" he said, his voice a little deeper than usual. Perhaps he had gotten older.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Why do you like it when the lady takes off her clothes?_

It's like one layer of her is peeled off, and I see a new part of her that I've never knew about before, a new part of her personality.

* * *

**Sandra**

I took off my nightdress. I suddenly gasped when I felt paper in my fingers and I crumpled the thin fabric. I searched for the source.

Inside the inner pocket were 3 crumpled and faded P10000 notes. It was the full price for 2 hours with the sylveon. I started sobbing.

"Mmmm…?" The sylveon gave me a worried look.

"No…it's all right. I feel good. As I matter of fact, I feel…"  _Happy._

I must have left the cash inside at some point, and forgot to take it out before sending it to the dry cleaners. The chemicals had worn out the money from a proud embodiment of wealth and power to an old, inked piece of paper with a number on the corner.

I left the notes on the bed, backing away from it as if it was some deadly sinful weapon that I didn't want to hold any longer than I had to.

The sylveon immediately got up and started chewing the numbered paper into little shreds.

I smiled. I threw my nightdress over to the other side of the room, completely baring myself in front of the sylveon. "Now you see…" I began. The sylveon looked up at me attentively.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_Why do you eat money?_

I keep forgetting that money paper is not tasty. I chew it up and then realize it tastes horrible, then I spit out the little pieces.

I don't know why the lady gave me money paper to eat that night. I think she wanted me to eat it, even though I don't like to.

She smiled at me when I destroyed her money, and that's never happened before.

* * *

**Sandra**

I touched my naked body. "Now you see, I have no money," I said to the sylveon. "I'm not paying you to do this. I am not…your 'client', I am not…your 'customer'."

I let my body sink into the bed and the sheets, my arms spread out to expose my entire body. I looked at the sylveon. "You see, now I am…just  _me_. Nothing else. No fees, no surcharges, no restrictions. Just me…"—I pointed—"…and you," I pointed. He looked at my finger curiously. I withdrew my finger before he could do anything.

"Heehee…!" He surprised me with his laugh.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_You mean you didn't know how to laugh?_

Yes. But I can now! [giggles] See? The lady made me realize that I could laugh. No one ever played with me before when I was in the building. All the times I fuck with my clients, that's work…or business. That night…that was just playing.

_So making love is playing?_

Yeah! It's fun, trust me! You wanna play?

* * *

**Sandra**

"I'm not doing this for the money," I said. "I'm doing this…"—I hesitated for only a second—"…because I love you.

"And you're not doing this for…the money," I guessed. "You're also doing this…"—I hesitated for longer than a second—"…because  _you_  also love me."

The sylveon didn't respond.

"Well…there's no need for you to reply," I said, positioning myself properly on the bed. "If I'm correct…show me I'm correct in the way you make love to me. Now."

"Heehee…!"

* * *

**Christine**

The raid happened close to midnight that night.

We conducted the medical exam of the primarina at around 2350. Shortly after, at 2355, two International Police agents entered the room with the primarina. Monica was apprehended without electrocution, and did not resist that much, considering the feelings of betrayal that she must have been experiencing.

The primarina had to be sedated with an electric shock, which was extremely effective as he was a water type. Shell-shocked by the blinding light and power, it stood frozen, trembling, its brown eyes wide open in fear.

Eight customers were found and apprehended that night, including Sandra in the room on the top floor. Sandra resisted arrest somewhat, shouting something along the lines of "No money! No money! I love him! No money!", but a mild electric shock quickly sedated her.

Twelve pokémon were found and taken into custody to be interviewed, as well as for therapy. The sylveon resisted electrocution using his attacks, but was already weak and had exhausted himself before anything more serious could happen. Other Agents apprehended and treated the primarina; the undercover medical exam was the last time I ever interacted with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hey guys, thanks for reading, and apologies for the late update. This is the tentative ending, but may be continued. If there are any loose ends you want me to tie, any questions you have, I will be happy to publish another chapter. Until then, thanks for reading and your feedback is always appreciated!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (FFN and AO3 versions of this chapter are identical.)
> 
> (Yep, I'm back...! I'm still alive! Hope you enjoy this chapter, where we cover the trial against Sandra Macintosh.)
> 
> (Disclaimer: The extent of my experience with law is being a fan of Law & Order. If they're any law students out there reading this, I'd be interested to know how much of the legal stuff I got right...)

 

**Sandra**

It was the greatest parade I have ever seen. Hordes of cameras, all around me as I made my way into the courthouse. They were asking me questions. So many questions. That was the mantra of the day. My eyes kept drooping. The trial carried on and on and on. It started with my defense lawyer, who began his opening statement.

"The pokémon brothel at Hau'oli has been shut down. Why, this must be feather in the caps for the International Police. After all, this business has concrete links to Team Skull and even Team Rocket, the most notorious criminal organization in the world. So I ask you: why are they prosecuting my client? She is merely a decent, married woman with kids…who got into the affairs of a nasty criminal organization far beyond her control.

"Don't see her as a…pervert who exploits pokémon out of some sick desire. In fact, her relationship with the sylveon, on its own, is a harmless and consensual relationship between a pokémon and a human. She's not the one doing the exploiting. It's a far greater criminal organization that backs this brothel—a criminal organization my International Police friends are too inept to prosecute—that is the guilty party."

It grew cold. Cold, like I wished to have the sylveon's celestial warmth flowing into me. Something trembled in the courtroom. I shifted in my seat. I looked around, confused. Did I know then? Did I know that it wasn't going to end well for me?

Then came Looker. He had the pervert look about him, the way he gazed at the jury and the rest of the court in his opening address. If he had the chance, he would've abused those pokémon to high heaven. My knees grew weak with fright. He wasn't a man I'd even want to touch, let alone talk with—yet I did, in the trial. By some miracle, I survived that beast's wrath. Who was the beast, really? The pokémon? Or the human?

"It's not a question of where Sandra committed her crime. Neither is it a question of if Sandra has committed a crime. We, as human beings living among pokémon, have determined that pokémon are legally incapable of giving consent. You, the jury, are legally bound by that law to find Sandra Macintosh guilty of sexual abuse of a pokémon. Whether it occurred in an establishment affiliated with a bigger criminal organization—the crime of pokémon sexual abuse is the same, ladies and gentlemen. And that crime is a deplorable one which we need to punish the defendant for."

* * *

**Christine**

The trial of Sandra Macintosh was number six on the list of defendants to be tried. The trials were conducted only a few weeks after the raid. The Pokémon Association Chairman in particular was anxious for a high profile case such as this to be processed quickly.

In cases involving International Police, the Chairman of the Pokémon Association presides as the judge. All International Police agents, including myself, have at least basic training in law. A high-level International Police Agent, in this case Looker, was responsible for the prosecution. The jury consisted of 12 of the most preeminent pokémon experts, among them Professor Juniper (junior and senior), Professor Birch, and Professor Oak himself.

The first on the witness stand, for the defense, was Tania, the elderly lady who Sandra had become acquainted with. Mrs. Macintosh's defense attorney stood up to question her.

"When did you first meet Mrs. Macintosh?"

"I met her on the day she moved in."

"And what was your impression of her?"

"She seemed nice. Sandra—I mean, Mrs. Macintosh—asked me questions about Alola; not that that was anything unusual. Moving to Alola from the mainland does take a little getting used to."

"Of course. Did you ever see Mrs. Macintosh with a pokémon?"

"Why yes, I did. She had a male sylveon with her. I remember it was male because she got mad at me when I called it a 'she'. Silly me."

"Did the sylveon appear…hurt? Abused in any way?"

"No. It seemed quite happy. It was smiling at Sandra, and made its typical vocalizations, without any signs of distress."

"Did Sandra carry the sylveon in her arms, or in a pokeball?"

"No, he stood by her side. And he willingly followed Sandra as she walked."

"What was your occupation before you retired?"

"I worked for 40 years as a trained nurse at the Hau'oli pokémon center."

"So you could say you are knowledgeable as to the well-being of a pokémon," my attorney said.

"Yes."

"In your experience as a pokémon nurse, could you say as to the well-being of the sylveon with Mrs. Macintosh?"

"I would say the sylveon was a…normal, healthy pokémon."

"Thank you, nothing further."

Then it was Looker's turn. He stood up and walked towards the witness.

"' _Seemed_ '? You said that Sandra 'seemed' friendly. Why only 'seemed'?"

"Well, she could be rather distant at times. There was one day, I met her on the street. She was awfully fidgety. Like she was distraught about something. She seemed to be in a real hurry to get somewhere."

"You say you saw the sylveon with Sandra once."

"Yes."

"Did you see the sylveon any other time?"

"No."

"Even having worked as a pokémon nurse for 40 years, can you make qualified assessments on a pokémon's complete mental state with just one brief encounter?"

"Well…no. I'd have to spend more time with the pokémon."

"One more question. Do you approve of humans having sexual intercourse with pokémon?"

She chuckled, and sighed. "Young man, it's not as cut and dry of a question as you're making it out to be. Not here in Alola, at least. When I was a nurse, I'd run a checkup on pokémon for some routine sickness. Many times, I'd notice signs of sexual penetration. Usually it's on the littler pokémon—they're just not physiologically adapted to the human anatomy. I could tell it was the trainers who'd done it.

"I didn't say anything though, because the pokémon seemed very happy with their trainers…almost too happy. So I wondered, you know. I never asked. But I wondered. I've never had sex with a pokémon before. I've never wanted to. But I just can't see it as something wrong enough to go to prison for."

Looker sighed deeply, and held his head low. "Nothing further." He had given up. But Tania, sitting on the witness stand, was calm as ever, with a little smile on her face. We had underestimated the old lady.

* * *

**Sylveon**

_[OFFICIAL COURT TRANSCRIPT]_

_Bailiff: The People call the sylveon to the witness stand._

_Chairman of the Pokémon Association (Judge): Is the pokémon translator ready?_

_Translator: Yes, I am ready._

_Looker: When you first get to know the defendant?_

Who?

_Looker: The defendant. [points to Sandra Macintosh]_

Oh, you mean the lady? I'm not sure…I've known her for a while, I guess.

_Looker: How soon did she force you to have sex with her?_

_Defense: Objection, Agent Looker is leading the witness. It isn't the consensus that the sexual relationship was forced._

_Looker: I'll rephrase. What did you do on the first night you met Mrs. Macintosh?_

Well…you know that already, silly. [giggles] I told your translator person. [turns to the translator, seated in the court] Tell them. Tell this man what happened.

_Looker: Please address the court._

But the translator's in the court, isn't he? See, he's sitting right there. You're not making any sense.

_Looker: [sighs] How many times did you have sex with Mrs. Macintosh?_

At least a few hundred times. I've lost count. That was business, though.

_Looker: Business, I see. And what did you receive in return?_

She'd give me money paper sometimes. Extra money paper that she didn't give to Master. It tasted disgusting when I tried to eat it. I don't know why the lady gave that to me.

_Looker: Is this Master? [shows a picture of Kai Beverly]_

Yes, that's Master.

_Looker: Let the record show the sylveon has identified Kai Beverly, manager of the PokéPalace. Now, what else did you receive in return?_

Nothing much.

_Looker: What, no food, treats?_

She gave me a pecha berry once at her house.

_Looker: But in the PokéPalace? Did Mrs. Macintosh give you any food or treats?_

No.

_Looker: Were there times you did not want to have sex with Mrs. Macintosh?_

Yes. But I have to. Even if the lady doesn't mind—she's very nice—Master will hurt me.

_Looker: I see. While you were having sex with Mrs. Macintosh, was she, at any time, hurting you?_

Well, yes. But I…I forgive her. I do. [turns to defendant] I forgive you. It's okay. [turns to Looker] I don't get you. I…erm…why are you making it so confusing? It's really simple. I think. Erm…can I have my candy now? You promised me you would after this thing.

_Looker: Not yet. That man over there has some questions for you. I have nothing further._

_Defense: Do you know what this is? [shows picture of a pokeball]_

Yes, it's a pokeball.

_Defense: You know that human pokémon trainers use these pokeballs?_

_Looker: Objection, relevance._

_Defense: I'm trying to establish the true nature of the sylveon's relationship with my client._

_Chairman: I'll allow it. Witness may answer._

No, I didn't know that.

_Defense: Have you ever been inside a pokeball?_

Yes. When Master took me back to the building, he used one to pick me up from outside the lady's house. It didn't feel good. It wasn't comfy.

_Defense: If you do have a human trainer, you realize you'll be spending a lot of time in one of those pokeballs?_

_Looker: Objection._

_Chairman: I'll allow it, but don't push it, counselor._

No, I didn't know that. That's not good. I don't like pokeballs.

_Defense: So, tell me, would you ever want to have a human trainer?_

No. That sounds horrible.

_Defense: If Mrs. Macintosh wanted to have a legal relationship with her, she would have to make you her trainer._

_Looker: Objection, argumentative._

_Chairman: I'll allow it. But get to the point, counselor._

_Defense: If Mrs. Macintosh were your trainer, you know she would have to keep you in one of those pokeballs for a long time?_

_Looker: Objection, witness is not qualified to answer._

_Chairman: Sustained. Watch it, counselor._

What's going on? Why are you asking all these stupid questions? Why are you saying all these funny words. [yawns] I'm tired. [turns to Mrs. Macintosh] When are we going to make love again? I know, I know. Next time…I'll let you be on top. Won't that be nice? That'll be really nice. [smiles]

_Defense: Mr. Chairman, I move to strike the pokémon's testimony. It's clear he's not responsive and incompetent to stand trial. In addition, Agent Looker is making it impossible for me to present my argument._

_Chairman: That's not Agent Looker's fault, counselor._

_Looker: Mr. Chairman, I…in retrospect, an open courtroom was not a good idea. Could the sylveon testify via closed circuit TV?_

_Chairman: I would've said yes to that, Agent Looker. I wouldn't have dreamed of putting a traumatized pokémon out here in front of all these people. But you should've thought about this sort of thing earlier. The jury has heard too much. I'm granting the defense's motion._

Why won't any of you listen to me!? You're just confusing me with all your questions and funny words. Where my candy? And I wanna see the laddy. When will I get to see her again? I wanna see the lady! I wanna see her! Please! Please!

* * *

**Sandra**

I have to admit something. I used to not think very highly of Christine. The woman who trapped me in that interrogation room, rattling me with question after question—perhaps, ironically, to make me faint from shock: like a pokémon. That was it. She didn't treat me like a person. When I fell in love with that pokémon, it brought me down to the level of pokémon in her eyes.

"The People call International Police Agent Christine."

There she sat, in the witness box. She was looking at me—no, my defense attorney. He looked at her back double. Her head was downcast, but she still was looking at my attorney.

Her fellow agent Looker stood up. "Agent Christine, would you tell the court what happened when you went undercover at the PokéPalace?"

"I…I posed as a customer one night. Then, I requested a job the PokéPalace. Working as a pokémon caretaker, I was able to infiltrate the operations of the pokémon brothel."

"What were your responsibilities?"

"I had to prepare and deliver food for pokémon."

"What did the pokémon in the brothel eat?"

My attorney stood up. "Objection, irrelevant. My client was not responsible for the brothel's cruel actions."

"Sustained."

Looker stuck his hands in the pockets of his long trench coat, and sighed. "Agent Christine, do you approve of sexual relations of any sort between a human and a pokémon?"

"Absolutely not. It is a vile and disgusting crime that needs to be stopped." That was rehearsed. I could tell, even before the meltdown she had later on.

"Thank you, Agent Christine. I have nothing further."

Then it was my attorney's turn.

"Agent Christine, could you tell us a little more about what happened when you…posed as a customer?"

For a moment, she glared at Looker, as if he wanted him to object. But he didn't understand. Rather, he frowned at her.

"Answer the question, Agent Christine," the Association Director said.

"I…I ordered a…session…with a male primarina. You understand, it was part of my cover—"

"But did you have sex with the primarina."

"Well, I—"

"Yes or no, Agent. Did you have sex with the primarina?"

"You have to understand—"

"What did I just say!?"

Finally, Looker stood up to protect her. That perverted coward. "Objection, badgering."

"Sustained. Move on, counselor."

"As soon as Agent Christine answers my question."

The Association Chairman turned to Christine. "Did you or did you not have sex with a male primarina while you were undercover?"

Her eyes were locked on the Chairman's when she said, "Yes."

My attorney smiled. "I see. Did you…enjoy it, Agent Christine?"

"Well—"

"In fact, let's face it. In the eyes of the public, you weren't an undercover Agent. You were…just as perverted of a sexual deviant as your fellow Agent Looker is making my client out to be."

"I—"

"Why did you have sex with the primarina?"

"Erm…I don't know."

"If you were trying to preserve your cover…could you not have just locked yourself in the room and pretended that it happened? Could you not have given it treats…or medicine, and then left? Hmm? Did you do that?"

"No, but I—"

"I see, you didn't. Instead, you chose to have sex with the primarina, something you yourself described just now as a 'vile and disgusting crime that needs to be stopped'. In fact, do you not personally consider any sex between a human and a pokémon to be rape?"

"Yes, but—"

"So, now, we all want to know, Agent Christine. Why did you it? Why did this…distinguished, experienced International Police Agent choose to…turn evil and…rape…this primarina. By your own admission we have to call it rape. So, we're all waiting, Agent. Why did you rape that primarina? Why did you rape that pokémon!?"

The commotion in the courtroom audience grew. This time, Looker was furious. "Objection! Does the defense have to continue this harassment!?"

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" Christine screamed, answering my attorney's question. Then it was dead silent. Her whole face was red. She was sobbing.

But no, my attorney was not finished. He still had to "continue this harassment", as Looker put it. "One more question. Do you have children?"

Yes, she did. Just like me. She had two children though, not one. She was married as well. To a woman, named Jan. How would Jan have reacted if she found out her spouse had sex with a pokémon? Would she have…yelled at her? Grabbed her? Tried to…win back her love by forcing her in bed? Like my husband: that vile-hearted, dirty little human.

My heart ached for Christine. Not the International Police Agent. But the woman, Christine. At the time, I hadn't personally met other people who had had sex with a pokémon before. And I wanted to be friends with Christine. I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach for having insulted her in the past. I mean, she was just doing her job as an International Police Agent, how could I blame her?

How could I blame her for anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The trial continues in the next chapter...thanks for reading, and be sure to comment on your thoughts!)


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